


The Moth and the Flame

by Seruna



Series: Universe: The Living World [3]
Category: Guild Wars 2
Genre: Fun and Games, Laranthir has alot of patience, M/M, Playboy, Slow Burn, Xenos doesn't take no for an answer, like seriously, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seruna/pseuds/Seruna
Summary: Xenos is the most lascivious sylvari warrior Laranthir has ever met. Now, that alone would be easy to ignore, if the sylvari was not quite so persistent and insisting that Laranthir will fall - hard.The story of a playboy who doesn't get what he wants right away, and learns the hard way.Takes place in the universe of Sgileas/Tivon/Derwen; if you are new and have no idea what that means, I'd suggest starting with "Stones in a Glasshouse" :3.





	1. The Machiavellian Approach

**Author's Note:**

> They say a good story starts in a tavern. So I had a go at it :D  
> So Pidcu asked a very good question that reminded me that I wanted to write this ages ago, and so I finally settled down and started. Thanks for giving me the push, Pidcu <3.
> 
> As for updates on this story I can not make any promises. My schedule is tight enough as it is and I'll focus especially on "The Living World" when updates are concerned. This will be more of a side-project, meant to be enjoyed in its entirety and forget about all the things I put you through in "The Living World."  
> So, yeah.  
> Enjoy! :D
> 
> Edit: I am currently writing Chapter 31. The change in rating is because of that chapter. Ahem. Yeah. :p

_Year 1326 AE, in the Roaring Lion in Lion's Arch after Zhaitan's defeat_

“..and then, by the Bear, I swear it _launched_ into our ship!” the large norn continued his tale, those comrades that had gathered around him listening intently, leaning in to catch glimpses of the massive norn. “It was larger than any beast I have ever seen. Large, leathery wings, tendons and sinew strewn over its body in tight coils. It flew through the air as if it were a fish underwater, body bending like a wave. Its head alone was half the size of our ship, and the whole ship shattered beneath my feet and blew apart!”

“So, what did you do?” A human asked, completely captured and entranced by the norn's story, and nobody minded the lazily smiling sylvari that sat barely a few feet away, sipping at a cup of water.

“I flew through the air and I swear that Raven must have given me wings and carried me, because It lifted me over the dragons head, and I raised my battleaxe with a cry, gripped it tightly just so -” He demonstrated it, pulling the massive axe from his broad back, both hands gripping the shaft tightly and lifting it up over his head, “and then I swung it down into the dragon's skull.”

The axe makes a loud _thwaking_ noise as it splits into the bar, the sharp edge digging deep into the old, furnished wood, but nobody except the bartender and the bypassing waitress seem to mind, who give the norn a disapproving and annoyed glance, but the norn doesn't even notice.

“and the dragon roared a last, chocking cry, the blood spurted over my hands and my leather.” The norn pointed toward a few dark sprinkles and marks atop his armour that could be dragon's blood, but there is no way to be certain. “Its body began to tilt and fall and I ripped my axe free with bears strength and leapt back upon our ship, and the dragon fell vanquished from the sky from the hell it whence came.”

The group around the norn seemed taken in, _believing_ the absurd story, and even brought out 'Oh's and awe-struck gasps and the norn puffed out his chest proudly and gripped his axe, pulling it from the wood. Splinters flew over his head when he lifted it and rested it atop his shoulder and laughed a loud, throaty laugh.

“That is amazing.” A human man mentioned and lifted his fingers at the norn in a most uncoordinated motion, his finger pointing toward the norns pauldron before settling against the norns shoulder. “That's – _hic –_ so brave.”

The sylvari chuckled at himself lightly, his eyes focussed on the cup in front of him. He looked forlorn and melancholic, and even the smile playing at his lips did not amend any of the memories that flashed through his mind.

The atmosphere in the tavern was merry and lively, every single member of the Pact that was cramped in here in the state of avid celebration. He knew what kind of boost in morale it was, a victory such as this. Their victory over the Elder Dragon _Zhaitan._ But however hard he tried he could not help but remember that the Commander was _still_ missing, and how none of the other Commanders, no matter of close they were to the Pact Marshal, no matter how close they were to Trahearne as a _person_ , he and many others could not reach him. The firstborn refused to grieve – and the Pact suffered from it.

He sighed at the thoughts that churned through his head. He'd come here in the hopes of forgetting that; he'd come here to be distracted, but the second he had entered the tavern he had realized he had not wanted to be here.

It was a mystery to himself why he stayed. Perhaps he should have ordered something of the stronger variety to drown his thoughts and the noise. For a while, at least.

“Well, _hello_ there.” A voice said beside him, startling him from his reverie. He looked up and met blazing yellow eyes – _sylvari eyes –_ and could not remember seeing this sylvari before. “I'll take your gloom away, if you'll allow me.” The male sylvari insinuated with a cat-like smile and gestured toward the empty bar stool, asking non-verbally for permission to sit down.

Dumbfounded he nodded and tried to remember if he had seen the sylvari before. Something about him seemed awfully familiar, like a bland person you met only fleetly, to forget them in the very same fashion.

“Come here often?” The sylvari asked and he shook his head and noticed that his hand rested in a tighter grip around the cup of water in front of him.

“I am with the Pact.” He told the sylvari. “You are...?”

“Ah.” The sylvari made and tapped himself lightly on his forehead with a smile. “Silly me. My name is Xenos. My friends call me Xen.”

“I am Laranthir.” He introduced himself and Xenos lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming as if he had just found out a most precious secret.

“Laranthir of the Wild.” Xenos said in a tone that was both correcting and asking for affirmation.

Laranthir nodded. “Yes.” He admitted, “That would be...me.”

“No need to be quite so self-conscious, _Grand Warmaster_.” Xenos said in a teasing tone, and Laranthir did not miss the not-so-subtle way the sylvari leaned closer toward him. As Xenos did so the garnet-coloured leafs atop his head that were neatly combed back shifted softly, a long-threaded leaf curling against his cheek. “You are quite accomplished, I assure you.”

Laranthir did not know what to answer. He was not a person to brag about himself, and neither did he need to be glorified by another. He was sure someone other than him would have asked _“What have you heard?”_ , but Laranthir really...didn't care.

He knew he was well respected, that the soldiers trusted his command and his decisions. There was no higher praise for him than that. The Vigil was all that he had, and now that the Vigil, Durmand Priory and Order of Whispers had banded together to form the Pact, that was his life.

“I see.” Laranthir answered and took a sip from his cup, trying not to meet those blazing eyes. Xenos looked expectant and intrigued, but when it was clear that Laranthir would comment no more, Xenos tried once again,

“Quite the serious type, aren't you?” Xenos grinned.

“The world is a very serious place.” Laranthir answered evenly, placing the cup down gently. Perhaps that would be his cue to leave – it was obvious that Xenos was out for something that Laranthir was not willing to provide.

“That can change temporarily.” Xenos offered and Laranthir knew what the sylvari was alluding to, warmth spreading into his fingertips. Strange, that the sounds had somehow decided to fade into the background like white noise.

“I have to go.” Laranthir said curtly and left a few coppers on the bar that made a clicking noise when they landed on the counter as he stood, and Xenos tilted his head.

“Did I startle you into leaving?” He asked mirthfully, and Laranthir was an honest person, but somehow he imagined that the truth would be neither warning nor secret to the sylvari, so he decided for another route.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Xenos.” Laranthir gave a curt nod of his head, and Xenos smirked, raising a cup to his lips.

“The pleasure will be all mine, _Laranthir_.”

Laranthir left before the rush of heat reached his head and he took deep breaths when he stepped out into the cold night air. The street of Lion's arch was paved with stone and torches and street lamps offered a soft light. The noises and voices from inside were booming and loud enough to be heard even here and Laranthir craned his neck to look at the stars before he sighed once again and set a pace for the Vigil Keep.

Laranthir disappeared into the distance of the street, the sound of his boots on the pavement echoing and fading away until nothing but silence remained. A few more moments passed before the door of the tavern swung open once more and Xenos stepped out in laughter, his arm slung around a human females' shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed a cherry red, her skirts unappropriated short, the sway of her hips an indication for both allure and inebriation.

She was giggling, leaning closely against him, her pale hand resting lightly against his chest. “Oh, you can't be serious!” She continued to giggle and turned her body toward him, his hands resting atop the crook of her neck. Her beautiful brown eyes were dilated, her lips glistening in the faint firelight, round and full.

He rested his other hand on her hip, encasing her enough to draw her in slightly, but not enough to trap her. She could easily pull away if she wished, but judging from the deepening blush on her cheeks, the shiver that went through her and the way she bit her bottom lip Xenos was sure that was not going to happen.

“Oh, but I _am_.” He said in a low voice, his yellow eyes coming to life in the dim glow of the night. They pulsed slightly and the female could not hide her interest – nor her curiosity.

“Will you show me?” She asked breathlessly, and Xenos let his hand reach up toward the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her soft hair. Her eyes dilated even more and he leaned down, his breath brushing over her lip teasingly.

He tilted his head and he met her eyes with intensity and _desire_ , enough that she could not miss it. “I'll show you that.”; Xenos hushed against her lips. “And more.” He finally closed the distance and her body was warm and soft against him, her skin burning under the palm of his hand.

Somewhere over their heads, Moths fluttered around the street lamps and torches, drawn in by the light and warmth. It was a play of life and death, one so delicate and daring it was like balancing a long rope strung between two mountains. One moth drew too close, its wings catching fire in a blaze. It flared slightly, a sprinkle of light and flame for a single moment before it glided down toward the floor like an extinguished, small coal, and before it reached the ground, Xenos and the female were gone.

 


	2. A Couple Of Misfits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am having so much fun writing this. I can't stop. Help?

“How many?” Boerrn asked, plucking the axe from the straw dummy in front of him.

Xenos spun, the greatsword resting easily in his hand as it cut in whirlwind motion, and when he finally came to a halt and stared up at the norn he raised an eyebrow and heard the _thump_ of straw pieces fall to the floor in a heap. “How many what?”

“How many did you take with you this time?” Boerrn asked with a broad grin and Xenos waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“I doubt she remembers.”

“That good, huh?” The norn's grin was mischievous, the tattoo that covered half his face bending at the curl of his mouth.

“You're just jealous.” Xenos grinned and lifted his greatsword into the air and let the flat side of the blade rest atop his shoulder. “Besides, if it weren't for that black _splatter_ over your face, I wouldn't have to set you up.”

Xenos blocked the Axe that came swinging his way with practiced ease, pushing with equal strength against the force of the strike. Boerrn was not serious in his strike, not enough to mortally wound him, at least. 

“It shows I am a worthy and glorious hunter.” Boerrn corrected and swung at him once again, but Xenos simply jumped back and laughed as the axe wheezed through the air half a meter in front of him.

“Your footsteps sound like a Dolyak's fart." Xenos teased and Boerrn growled, aiming another strike for the warrior, forcing him to parry the blow. They both pushed against their blades, keeping them in place long enough so that Xenos could give Boerrn one of his shit-eating grins, while Boerrn rolled his eyes.

“I _told_ you.” The norn sighed exasperated and leaned his upper back, aiming a kick in Xenos direction, but the sylvari spun of the way, the blades screeching as they scrapped. “It was the melted snow.”

“Right.” Xenos continued. “Like the time you pissed your pants and-”

“Hey!” A voice roared and Boerrn halted mid-swing and lowered his axe, turning his gaze toward the Seraph that approached them with a frown. “Stow your weapons this instant, or I will have to take you into custody for violation of the anti-weapon policy.”

Xenos met Boerrn's gaze and they both fell into roaring laughter, bowing forward and holding their bellies. The Seraph's eyes narrowed and the human male lifted a finger in their direction as if to  _scold_ them, and Xenos had to stifle the new wave of laughter. 

“What's so funny?” The Seraph finally snapped.

Xenos was the first to catch his breath. “I am sorry, Officer.” He said blandly, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I just had trouble imagining your mingy form accomplishing such a feat.”

The Seraph obviously was searching for words, never having acquainted himself with quite this amount of disrespect, and Xenos quickly stowed his greatsword before the Seraph could decide to take them in after all. 

“We were already leaving. Good day, Officer.”

“That..yes. Good.” The Seraph said, and _By the Pale Tree_ , this was too easy. Xenos turned away just in time to hide his laughter, barely hiding his shaking shoulders as he laughed quietly.

“I apologize for my uncivilised companion.” Boerrn said blandly, but Xenos knew the norn was holding back as much as he was – only that he was faring better. “We'll be on our way – peacefully.”

They made it only a couple of steps before they broke out into another fit of laughter.

 


	3. Rescue from the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of angst, but not much. Just Laranthir dealing with responsibilities like the underrated man that he is.

Laranthir rubbed his eyes and blinked down at Efut who had repeatedly said something – and somehow he had spaced out and not heard, even when he'd specifically asked her to repeat what she had said. 

Efut's gaze was full of sympathy and she tilted her large head to the side, raising her hands to put down the papers on Laranthir's desk before she took a step closer to where he sat. The dark rings under his eyes were indication enough for the lack of sleep he was getting, but he dared not rest. Not now.

“You can not help anybody in an exhausted and drained state, Warmaster.” She chided, but it was more friendly advice than anything. 

“I'll be done in a bit.” He murmured and rubbed his eyes, as if what he said held any truth – which it did not. The tasks only ever seemed to pile up, and never diminish and cease. However many tasks he completed, three more took its place.

“Is there something I can help you with?” She asked and Laranthir considered it for a moment. He'd struggled to find members of the Vigil that were _willing_ and _able_ to walk into Arah. The Durmand Priory had no such troubles; the scholars were practically tearing at each other's throats to get a chance to just _glimpse_ the long lost city.

But that was not fair. It was not that the Vigil members he'd selected (out of a massive array of soldiers, warriors, archers and tacticians alike) were incapable. He knew them all to be brave, young and dedicated people that would walk into Arah for Sgileas even if it meant certain death.

It was Laranthir's hesitance. He'd been given two days to select and assemble a group of Vigil that would accompany the Durmand Priory Scholars that were headed into Arah in search, and despite his knowledge on their capabilities, he knew of the dangers and risks the city posed. Well, some of them, at least.

Despite his many years, sending soldiers into potential death was never easy, and with how exhausted he was, it somehow wore him down more than usual. 

He took the list of Vigil members and handed it to Efut without a word, the only sound the rustling of the paper as it was passed into her hands. Her fingers curled around it and her large eyes glinted in the candle-light that was the sole source of light in the room. 

She scanned the paper for a few more moments, her eyebrows furrowing. “Hmm.” She made, a sound that Laranthir knew very well. She always made it when deep in thought, and he waited patiently without interrupting her until she slowly met his gaze. “It's a good selection.” She praised. “If I may, I would send Rekka, Stovne and Grimpowder.”

“Why?” Laranthir asked. Not to question her judgement – they had never ever been at that point. They both trusted each other enough to know that the other _always_ had a reason to do and act as they did, and Efut shrugged.

“Rekka may be asura, but she gets along with the Priory, and her interests are mixed. Her ingenuity and curiosity will be a more prominent motivator than dedication, and of that she also has in abundance. Stovne is a guardian; his abilities to nullify attacks with his shield will prove invaluable; he's a bit on the grumpy side, but he gets along well with Grimpowder, who, need I remind anyone, experiments with all sorts of explosives in his free time. A closed door, a passage that needs to be cleared, or even just setting up a trap and luring enemies into an ambush – he's perfect for the job.”

Laranthir leaned back, taking it all in. He took a moment to mull it over, but he found no fault in Efut's logic. He was not sure if that was because he was so tired or because her point was flawless. Either way he reached out with his hand wordlessly and she gave him back the paper. He glanced over the list once more and then set it down on his desk. “Alright.” He nodded. “Then its settled.”

Efut smiled. It was not an arrogant grin; it never was. It was not about being better. They were  _Vigil_ . They fought as one, they were a team. Vices such as pride and envy had no place here. If one gear spun out of place, the whole machine would come to a stop – and Laranthir and Efut knew that truth better than most. “Go get some sleep.” She suggested. “The sun's already coming up again.”

Laranthir lifted his gaze toward the window and realized she was right; streaks of light brushed over the horizon in a soft orange, slowly pushing the edge of night away. “I'll be just a moment longer.” He answered. “Thank you for your help.” It was genuine, even if there was a certain finality to it.

Efut didn't argue. She knew better than to try. “We'll find him.” Was all she said and picked up her papers and left the way she had come.

Laranthir watched the flicker of the candle. “Dead or alive, I wonder.” He murmured into the dawn, and a brush of air brought the candle to flicker and extinguish.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read "Stones in a Glasshouse" you'll recognize that the three characters mentioned here were part of the four-man team (There were many there, but it was those four that I explicitly mentioned) that went into Arah to search for Sgileas. Just dropping that in in case it was not clear yet that Laranthir had a big impact on that. :3


	4. Janus-Faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have noticed the chapters are rather short - but they are meant to be that way. They feel alot like dabbles, but I am having alot of fun. I hope you are too. <3

“Another party?” Xenos clarified, having to raise his voice as they entered the _Roaring Lion_. “What did they kill this time?”

Boerrn tried to dodge the waitress that passed by with her hands full of jugs of ale and some sloshed over and splattered onto the floor, a noise of surprise startling from her throat as she stumbled backward right into Xenos who caught her by the shoulders easily. 

When she looked over her shoulder she opened her mouth with a blush. “I'm so sorry-” she began, and Xenos flicked over the switch.

“Nothing to worry about, darling.” He said, voice going an octave lower and he let his eyes wander blatantly over her lips before his eyes flicked up again. He feigned to be embarrassed for a moment and let go of her shoulders and could see from the rush of blood into her cheeks that she'd noticed his flirtatious gaze – and fell for his charade. “I'm sorry.” He apologized, even though he really wasn't. He liked looking at beautiful things; all _kinds_ of things.

“N-no.” She brought out in a stutter. “I'm...it's...”

“How about I make it up to you?” He asked with a shy smile and gestured toward the bar. “When do you get off?”

She smiled. “In a couple of hours. I'll have to clean up...but I'd...uh...”

“Like that.” Xenos finished for her and she blushed and averted her gaze. “I'll be waiting.” He promised and that, at least, was no lie. 

She nodded and turned around, barely hiding her smile as she flew off toward a table that was waving toward her. 

“By bears breath, you are insatiable.” Boerrn accused. “If you butcher this up and we have to switch places again I'll-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xenos waved with his hand in a dismissive gesture and sauntered over toward their usual spot – right at the bar where Boerrn could easily flaunt himself and gain the attention of anyone if only he yelled loud enough, and Xenos could let his eyes wander over potential...avocations. 

Boerrn grumbled under his breath and ordered a large ale, his large hand rounding around the cup with ease. “The Commander showed up.” Boerrn told him, finally finishing where he had left off and Xenos waited until his own drink arrived, the scent of nectar rising sweetly into his nose. He relished it for a moment before he took a sip and let it glide down his throat. It was cold and sweet with just a slight burn in the aftermath. 

“So?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Dunno.” Boerrn shrugged. “Seems like an important guy.”

Xenos had once dreamed of a life as a famous warrior leading an army of his own against a possible enemy, but those had been nothing but dreams of a Sapling. Where a selected few had buzzing Wyld Hunt calling them to action, he had only the insatiable desire and curiosity that brought him closer to all races and genders alike. He cared little for the boundaries some other people sought or believed to be there; he was famous for two things:

Being an incredible flirt and a passionate lover and being unbelievably handsome. And that was not the booze nor his ego talking; that simply was his reputation, at least among his friends and the many taverns he'd made trouble in over the course of time. He just couldn't help it.

“Speaking of which, what's the plan?”

Despite his best efforts, Xenos' lively occupation was only in his spare time. There were many indications for his  _actual_ occupation. He was a Bounty Hunter, trained and renowned for binging in even those sort of criminals that had the local authorities atremble. 

Despite being sylvari and thusly supposedly slimmer than humans, he was closer to a human build than a sylvari's. His shoulders and chest were broad and wide, his abdomen marked with a considerable pack, long legs strong and agile and the pattern of his bark mimicking that of defined muscle. His skin was a light yellow like the streaks of the sun, the leafs atop his head the color of dark garnet and his eyes resembling glowing embers. His very appearance was warmth and affection; one of the women he'd spend the night with had told him he looked like a flame come to life, just as destructive and ferocious. He'd taken the compliment well and rewarded her amiably. He'd never let it be said he left his partner unsatisfied. No, most certainly not.

“Follow the trail, hack them till they agree to surrender. Or take their head. Whichever happens first.” Xenos replied with an indifferent shrug. 

Boerrn rolled his eyes. “Your plans always sparkle with their auspicious creativity and diversity.”

“Do continue.” Xenos grinned. “I do so _love_ to hear you doting.”

He dodged the cup of ale thrown his way nimbly and with a bark of laughter.

 


	5. Patience is the Virtue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laranthir is such a good guy >_< He's full of good virtues and has sympathy and empathy even thought he's such a stern leader. Bless him. He needs someone to hug him tight.

They  _found_ him. Laranthir was not there to actually see the Commander's return, but he'd been on his way to Fort Trinity. It was an event none of them had dared to hope for; the fall alone should have killed him, and the dangerous city of Arah  _no less_ .

Yet the Commander came from his journey stronger than before and the Pact survived. Trahearne recovered, and Laranthir felt a blooming in his chest seeing the joy slowly come back into Trahearne's features. It was as if he had seen a dead sylvari walking, only to suddenly come back to life. 

Watching them made him feel... _lonely_ . He was a secondborn and blessed to be alive. His whole heart and soul were set on the Vigil and the Pact, and even though he had no Wyld Hunt, that was his purpose. He did not need a vision from the Dream to see that. It was a most uplifting and fulfilling duty and he'd met great friends and allies along the way, allies powerful enough to band the Orders together and take down an Elder Dragon.

It felt surreal still that they had succeeded. 

“Laranthir.” Trahearne greeted him and Laranthir gladly took the hand that was stretched out and offered to him and gave it a firm squeeze. 

“Pact Marshal.” Laranthir replied a little stiffly, the courtesy of the title a habit he could not break. “You are looking well.”

Trahearne smiled. “It would seem that destiny smiles upon me this day – on all of  _us_ . There is much to discuss. Follow me.”

Laranthir walked abreast beside the firstborn, the clank of his armour so very familiar he did not even hear it when he moved. “You are lucky to have this opportunity.” Laranthir mentioned and Trahearne glanced sideways at him with a contemplative frown.

“What is wrong? You sound a little sad.” Trahearne noticed, and Laranthir echoed what he had said in his head and noticed the firstborn spoke truth. He had not meant to invoke such emotion, much less convey it.

Laranthir thought back upon the time where he had seen Trahearne and Sgileas in the tomb in Orr, where he'd first realized the manner of relationship the two shared. He was not envious or chagrined; no, not at all. He simply wished that he too could find what they had.

He bowed his head. “Not sad, exactly.” He began and sighed. Trahearne was patient, listening intently. “Just resigned. I've often sought love, but never found it. Perhaps one day. Until then, I'll serve the Vigil as if it were my beloved.”

“Your dedication to the Vigil is admirable, Laranthir.” Trahearne smiled and rested a hand atop his shoulder, bringing him to a temporary and abrupt stand-still. He met Trahearne's eyes and couldn't explain what it was, if perhaps it was the Dream that wove into their consciousness and kept them thinly connected at all times, but he felt incredibly grateful that Trahearne was allowed this happiness. “Be patient. It will find you eventually.”

At that, Laranthir frowned. “It will find me?” He echoed confused. 

“We often say ' _Seek and you shall find'_ , but the truth is that whether we search or not, whether we feel accomplished and ready, whatever is planned for us catches up with us at a determined moment in time that we can not influence. All that we have to do is make sure that we are prepared when that time comes and be ready to grasp the opportunity before it vanishes.”

Laranthir nodded, getting it. “Then I will have faith in your wisdom.”

Trahearne smiled. “It's worked for me, after all.”

At that, Laranthir chuckled and they walked toward the Command Center side by side, speaking of the matter no more. 

 


	6. Food first

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about a norn, and norn need two things: Something to hunt and food. :D

“ _By the Pale Tree_.” Xenos gasped when he saw the Molten Alliance for the first time. Flame Legion and Dredge working together was _unheard_ of. It...It _didn't make any sense_.

It refused to make  _any_ sense.

Nevertheless, Xenos and Boerrn managed to cut a passage through and set up a small campfire near the Wayfarer Foothills. The norn lands were bitterly cold, a climate Xenos had never quite grown accustomed to, but a job was a job, and even if he hated to admit it, his hobbies (aka drinking and having a lovely evening with a partner of his choice) were not inexpensive. 

Xenos lifted his hands toward the campfire, relishing the warmth it brought back into his fingertips. Begrudgingly it was much harder to wield his weapon when his hands and fingers felt numb and he cast Boerrn a glance who was skinning a rabbit and humming a song, not-so-completely out of tune as usual. 

Their vigil was mostly quiet. There was only the occasional crunching of snow when refugees passed by, packages and backpacks strapped over their backs, faces grim and solemn. The smell of rabbit over the fire made his mouth water, but Xenos trained his eyes toward a dark spot in the distance between the thin lines of trees that looked more like paint brushes. 

In times such as this he missed the Grove. Despite the many sylvari stacked together and being so incredibly joyful about absolutely everything like merry little children it was  _beautiful_ . He dreamed of the smell of the flowers, the babble of the streams, the patter of the rain, the swish of the wind. 

The spot in the distance grew closer, stomping through the thick snow. It was a heavily hooded figure, broad enough to be a norn, but not tall enough. The movement patterns was unlike that of a norn a well, the shoulders hunching forward as if the figure was bent forward.

It took him about three more seconds to realize why.

He was on his feet the next instant, grabbing his greatsword where he had placed it near the fire to warm the handle, and charged through the trees with a cry. Boerrn startled and stared after Xenos, pausing the skinning of the rabbit for a brief moment before he shrugged and went back to work.

Xenos struck at the hooded figure and the figure moved to the side, growling dangerously. Clearly not a norn, then. With a whirl around his axis the sword cut through the robe and tore it away, revealing the Flame Legion Shaman beneath that carried a large, molten staff and an ember orb which it cradled against its chest. 

The Fire Shaman shot a ball of fire toward him that wheezed through the air, illuminating the trees around them in a blazing light for only a brief moment. Xenos lunged to the side and turned, bringing his greatsword around in an arc. The Shaman cried out when the tip of the blade left a cleaving wound over its rips and flank and it succumbed down to one knee, the ember orb still cradled close. It huffed out a heaving breath and then lifted its long, furred neck to look up at him. 

“For the _Legion_.” The Shaman growled through gritted talons and threw the ember orb onto the ground. Xenos startled and took a step back, but the second the molten orb made contact with the snowy ground it exploded. 

He lifted his arm, expecting to be burned alive or at least scorched beyond the point of recognition when there was only the cool brush of wind. Carefully he opened his eyes again and saw Boerrn standing with his large shield extended toward the blast in one hand, the other holding the rabbits' hind legs. The rabbit oscillated for a moment before it stilled and Xenos recognized the blue corona that surrounded them.

“Gee, thanks.” Xenos rolled his eyes and brushed over the leaves of his armour and noticed that they were all intact. Not a single singe mark or soot anywhere to be seen. “Took your precious time to sweep in.”

“Eh. The fur on the leg was giving me trouble.” Boerrn shrugged and lifted the skinned rabbit into the air and gave him a wide, foolish grin. “Hungry?”

 


	7. Tongue of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and...well, not sweet. But it's something *shrugs*

“These refugees are coming from everywhere.” Laranthir argued and Trahearne looked up from the map in front of him, yellow eyes blinking to meet Laranthirs' dark ones.

“I am sorry, Laranthir, but we can not afford to split the Pact apart to solve every single problem that exists. The Pact was formed to fight the Elder Dragons, not to defend the cities against deviants.”

“Yet you sent the Commander to investigate the issue.” Laranthir continued and Trahearne rose from his bent-forward position and sighed.

“We are uncertain if perhaps there is more to Scarlet's plans.” Trahearne amended. “Priory scholars seem to have found evidence leading to the theory that Scarlet may be connected to an Elder Dragon. That is why I sent him: so that we may be prepared for anything.”

“This is no different.” Laranthir insisted and stepped closer, resting his hand on the wooden table as he approached. “I agree that sending the Commander was the right decision; his presence will be a stabilizing influence among the tribulation Scarlet has caused, but the Pact _can_ help. We have to take it only one step farther.”

“And if I agreed to this, what would stop those that suffer from Scarlets' attack to demand more?”

“I would.” Laranthir declared and Trahearne looked taken-aback for a brief moment before he considered the secondborns words.

“What is it that you have planned?” Trahearne asked carefully, but at least he was considering Laranthir's' proposition now than downright refusing it as he had in the beginning, but Laranthir had been adamant and when Sgileas had offered to see into the matter himself, the opportunity had been perfect to bring the matter up once again.

Laranthir could not stand to see the trepidation that the citizens in Lion's Arch and other major cities shared. It would be a crime against all races to abandon them in a time of need and if he were not Pact, he'd be out there aiding them already.

“Give me one ship. I will fly to Lion's Arch and survey the issue. I do not doubt the Commander is capable, but two pairs of eyes see more than one. I'll be representing the Pact and in extension, your orders.”

“And what of the crew?” Trahearne coaxed.

“They will serve to extend the security in the city and in extension be not only your eyes and ears, but their presence will ease the mind of those that are currently struggling for survival.” Laranthir took a deep breath. “It pains me to see to many people in distress and be unable to help them. They will not comprehend that the mission of the Pact is greater. If we do not act in their common interest we might be dealing with prosecution in the future.”

Trahearne fell into a contemplative trance for a few minutes, staring at the map that stretched for across the table. Laranthir waited patiently until the Marshal lifted his head and gave a nod. “Very well.” the firstborn relented. “I will do as you ask; but remember that if the scholars are wrong – this is not our battle.”

Laranthir nodded. “Thank you, Marshal.” Trahearne gave a short inclination of his head as a sign he had heard, and Laranthir exited the tent with a thrumming in his veins. The task ahead was mighty and nothing short of terrifying in the sense that the responsibility resting on his shoulders was massive.

He took a deep breath and then set out to relay Trahearne's orders – and to fly to Lion's Arch.

 


	8. Don't look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla there! I am trying to update this story together with "The Living World" but I am not sure I can wok both stories simultaneously every time, so if I have to make a choice, "The Moth and the Flame" will always has less importance, just bringing that out there so you know :3  
> Now go enjoy some more of Xenos' smugness!

_Year 1327_

Xenos hated this. He hated the crowds, the many people stacked in one place like herded sheep. He hated that in all the commotion supplies were low – and his most favourite tavern closed.

He and Boerrn were freelancers or rather, mercenaries. They did whatever someone paid them to do, whether it be to go on a bounty hunt, to guard a certain building at night or find a lost dog. The spectrum of their job description reached far – further than both of them cared to elaborate and clearly define.

That is how it had been.

Until they had been conscripted into Lion Guard service.

“We are not even getting paid.” Xenos grumbled and kicked an innocent pebble down the street where it clacked softly and disappeared from sight. His greatsword was strapped over his back with a belt that crossed over his chest, the large leather scabbard resting in between his shoulder blades, the length sometimes brushing against his legs. He'd never moved so much without actually pulling it out. It was maddening.

“At least we get food.” Boerrn shrugged. _Always the Pragmatist,_ Xenos thought bitterly. It annoyed him to no end that the suffering of other people had stretched so far as to permeate _his_ life as well. He'd always known the world was not perfect, but did it have to be quite so cruel?

The street was filled with people sitting in the corners, having no other place to go. All the taverns and accommodations were filled to the brim and yet even then families had to remain outside day and night without shelter _or_ food. The rain from just a few days prior had made the ground slick and wet, causing them to seek shelter near shops and other inhabitants – and the citizens of Lion's Arch were less than happy.

Xenos felt pity for them, if only briefly. He pushed it down again because pity was _dangerous_ . Caring was _dangerous_. It helped nobody if he too began to dwell on how terrible and dark the world was – instead he sought to better it, at least for himself.

His mood turned a considerable shade lighter when they turned the corner and he saw a familiar figure in the distance and after what had felt like days he smirked once again, seeing the opportunity for what it was.

“Xen?” Boerrn called after him when he moved forward toward the figure he recognized as Laranthir of the Wild, and he made sure as he passed by a window that he looked as stunning as he always did.

“...and unload those boxes.” Laranthir ordered from the pier, his eyes downcast onto a sheet of paper that rested in his hand. He did not seem to hear or notice Xenos' approach, and Xenos circled the secondborn, stood behind him and looked over his shoulder.

“Hello there.” Xenos greeted and got the reaction he wanted, at least to an extent. Laranthir made a surprised noise and turned around. He looked adorably startled and frowned at him with the very same serious face Xenos remembered. Xenos waited with an enigmatic smile for Laranthir's moment of recognition, but it never came. Instead Laranthir let his free hand hover over the blade at his waist.

“State your purpose.” Laranthir demanded and Boerrn caught up, but stood a good distance away, watching with a mirthful smile.

“ _Please_.” Xenos wanted to roll his eyes, but held back the urge. “Do not pretend you have forgotten me.”

Laranthir's frown deepened and he took a careful step back, assessing Xenos, his eyes brushing over his figure only briefly – not lingering anywhere, much to Xenos' dismay. “I am sorry.” Laranthir began. “If we have met before, I must admit to having forgotten.”

Xenos blinked dumbly for a few more moments, trying to comprehend the sentence Laranthir had just uttered. He'd..he'd never _not_ been recognized. Such a thing didn't happen. It just... _didn't_.

Laranthir lifted his gaze toward Boerrn who decided to step closer, noticing the awkward shift in the air. To Xenos' annoyance Laranthir seemed to recognize the _norn_.

“Ah.” Laranthir made. “You are the norn from...the pub.”

“Accurate enough.” Boerrn shrugged his shoulders with a charming smile, trying very hard not to cast Xenos a glance. The sylvari looked completely dumbfounded, a look that was befitting more than Boerrn would ever tell him. He liked his head where it was, thanks. “I am Boerrn, and this is-”

“I'm Xenos.” Xenos interjected, chagrined that his friend had somehow stirred Laranthir's memory. How was it that the secondborn remembered the _norn_ better than him? It was almost insulting. Almost.

He really wanted to ram his elbow into Boerrn's ribs when he saw the side-way glance the norn threw his way, the expression near the point of exploding into laughter.

“You are no Lion Guard, neither are you part the Pact.” Laranthir noticed, apparently not recognizing the name either. Had he truly made such a fleeting impression?

“We are mercenaries. The Lionguard conscripted us.” Boerrn answered blandly.

Laranthir nodded in understanding, having relaxed considerably. “Thank you for your service. It is due to people like yourself that the streets stay safe in such tumultuous times.”

“We didn't-” Xenos began when Boerrn elbowed him, and he rubbed the side of his arm and glared up at the norn, but Boerrn was already smooth-talking once again.

“We were not aware how dire the situation was.” Boerrn said. “It is our pleasure to help. But, if I may ask, what brings _you_ here? Should you not be with the Pact?”

 _By the Pale Tree_ , Boerrn had smoother articulation than an eel, Xenos had to give him that. Even though he still rubbed his arm, he was slightly less annoyed and decided to play along.

Laranthir considered the question. “When I heard there was some connection between Scarlet and the dragons, I petitioned to bring one ship to survey the issue.”

“And what have you found out?” Boerrn continued to coax.

“It...points toward the direction that the scholars speak truth.” Laranthir said slowly. “This information is hardly proven truth, however. I would appreciate it if you did not spread any rumours – a panic is _not_ what we need right now.”

Boerrn smiled. “Is there a job we can do for you?”

“You are conscripted by the Lionguard.” Laranthir frowned. “I can not overrule their authority, not on their own turf.”

“We are mercenaries first.” Boerrn corrected. “And if we can help, we'll try.”

Laranthir considered this for a brief moment before he nodded. “Very well. There are a few tasks that need doing and I have neither the hands nor the capacity to do them.” Xenos held back an innuendo that lay on he tip of his tongue involving the capacity of his own hands, but only barely. “If you find the free time, please deliver these to the camp just outside of Lion's Arch in the Gendarran Fields. There are refugee camps there near the Vigil stronghold. I know it is much to ask, but it is urgent.”

Boerrn took the letters, each addressed to another person, but he recognized none of the names. “We will get back to you once the task is complete.” the norn said smoothly, and finally Xenos added,

“You can count on us.”

“Thank you.” Laranthir smiled.

“You sly dog.” Xenos chuckled once they stepped from the pier toward the direction of the streets and the city out of hearing range. “I did not know you had it in you.”

“Learned from the best.” Boerrn laughed. “Now lets get these delivered and I'll leave you to charm your way into...you know.”

Xenos smiled. “Oh. I do.” He looked over his shoulder to where Laranthir was already pointing with his fingers and giving out orders, completely engrossed and focussed on his task. _By the Pale Tree_ , he was _asking_ for an activity that was much more relaxing, at least in the _aftermath._

And Xenos, despite his minor setback, was determined to see to it that Laranthir would get _nothing_ but the _best_.

 


	9. The Advance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I think it's obvious from the title, but Xenos finally makes a move! Want to see how it works out? Well, I'll not keep you any longer. Off you go ! :3

“Sir, there is a mercenary who wishes to speak with you.”

Laranthir blinked up from the pile of papers toward the Pact soldier. “Mercenary?” He repeated before he remembered. “Ah, yes. Send them in.”

The Pact solider paused. “He's alone, Warmaster.”

At that Laranthir slowly stood, frown deepening. Had something happened? Had one of them been injured on the task? The letters had been important, yes, but there had been nobody to overhear them. None other than Pact members, and Laranthir trusted all of them.

Once again he'd send people into danger – and once again one had gotten hurt in his service. It was a curse that he lived day and night, one he could forgot when the flow and sheer amount of work overwhelmed him during the day, but at night?

No, he couldn't forget at night.

“Show him in.” Laranthir bid the Pact soldier and the soldier did as he was asked, inclining his head in a polite gesture. With a swift turn and a few curt steps the man disappeared, and then after a few more moments of drenched and stretching silence Laranthir paced toward the front of his desk, staring at the door until steps echoed through the corridor outside before the figure of the sylvari appeared in the doorway.

The sylvari looked barely tattered, not even tired. He walked as if his body was pulled taunt and tight, as if he was ready at any moment to be attacked, but it was not a defensive posture at all. The sylvari had his chest puffed out, eyes glancing over the room briefly with an assessing gaze before they settled on Laranthir.

“It is good to see you.” Laranthir was the first to speak. “Did something happen to your companion?”

The candles atop his desk were the sole source of light in the room and in the dead of night, the steps of the warrior echoed when he came closer and closed the door behind him. There was something predatory and dangerous about the man, like a black panther playing with a preyed-upon deer that had no chance of survival. It made Laranthir's skin crawl and his hand twitch, but he refused to let it show.

“Boerrn?” the sylvari clarified and Laranthir nodded.

“He is not with you. Is he injured?” Laranthir asked, concern weaving into the words.

The sylvari shook his head, the leaves that were combed back over his head gleaming in the dim. His pattern glowed softly, a pulse of fire in between the lines of bark that could be seen beneath the plated armour the sylvari chose to wear. “He is well. The task is done.”

Laranthir sighed in relief. That was one less stone of guilt that weighed him down, at least. “I am glad. Why is he not with you?”

The sylvari shrugged. Laranthir could for some reason not remember the sylvari's name, even though the danger the sylvari permeated was to be reckoned with, he was sure. It was in the posture alone, the pulled back shoulders, the lifted chest, the chin lifted just a bit higher. Arrogance, or well deserved self-esteem? Laranthir couldn't say. “We're friends, but we're not glued to one another.”

Laranthir nodded, understanding somewhat. “Your friend mentioned you were mercenaries, and I know that in times such as this, rewards are hard to come by.” Laranthir began and turned around, hand sifting through the many piles of paper. He'd placed it somewhere out in the open so he would not forget; he had had a feeling the mercenaries would return on shorter notice than most messengers, and his gut feeling had been right, but even as his hands collected piles of papers and relocated them to one side, he could not find the envelope he'd prepared anywhere. 

It was not much, but it was something. Trahearne would most likely reprimand him for using his own stash to reward those in his service, but Laranthir saw no point in keeping it to himself. It was one of the ways he could show his appreciation toward those that did good things, those that tried to make the world a better place and help those that could not help themselves; those akin to him.

When finally he found the envelope he noticed that it had a crease, but the coins inside chimed when he lifted it. “I thank you for your service.” Laranthir murmured and turned around, “so I have-”

His voice came a halt and he suppressed a surprised gasp when he noticed that the sylvari had come closer –  _too close_ for comfort – yellow, gleaming eyes like embers baring down on him. “You have?” The sylvari coaxed, voice dropping lower, and now that he was closer Laranthir smelled a slight musk and the faint scent of mint and... _raspberry_ ?

_Odd_ , he thought before he collected himself, leaning slightly back against the table to create some much needed distance. “It is very uncommon to pay those in tenure of the Lionguard, but your work in service of the Pact is appreciated.” He held out the envelope and the sylvari glanced down at the letter with an unmoving face, grasped it tentatively and let his fingertips linger for a moment, the touch tepid and unexpectedly soft against the back of Laranthir's hand before he took it with a gentle pull from Laranthir's fingers. 

For a moment the sylvari stared at the envelope and then leaned forward, upper body bending closely into Laranthir's personal space and placed it atop the desk behind him and then turned his head, eyes lifting to meet Laranthir's.

Laranthir didn't dare to breathe. All he could do was stare at the sylvari in startled confusion, wondering perhaps if he was reading too much into it – and By the Pale Mother Tree, he tried not to.

He wanted to shift away, away from the arm to his side that was propped upon the edge of the desk, the sweltering heat that seemed to engulf him, but the second he twitched, the sylvari spoke again, “Do you really not remember me?” He asked, voice low, eyes staring so intently and directly Laranthir stilled.

The scent. It was the scent that was most prominent, wafting toward Laranthir's nose. It was not unpleasant, not at all, and now that he cared to look, inclined to do so by the sylvari's question, his gaze shifted toward the glowing lines of his pattern, its soft pulse and the leaves atop his head. His memory stirred, he remembered vaguely...

If this sylvari was friends with the norn from the pub, then...

“Ah.” the sylvari made, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he noticed the recognition in Laranthir's features. “You _do_.”

It had most likely been his best judgement to forget. His job, his life, the dedication required for the life he lead allowed no such distractions, even if his body answered with a soft pulse of warmth, but he refused to let his mind wander.

Xenos. That was the name. At least that too he remembered.

He quickly guarded his features. “I am sorry, Xenos.” He began, pulling away from the closeness. “I am afraid that-”

Xenos' hand shot out, lodging itself on Laranthir's other side, trapping him in place. It did not help that the warrior obviously loomed over him, half a head taller. “You can call me Xen.” Xenos lured, eyes gleaming in the flicker of the candlelight.

“We are on no such terms.” Laranthir said defensively, body leaning back. “Take a step back, or I will be forced to take measures.”

Xenos smiled, tilting his head to the side and offering view of the crook of his neck that was almost hidden beneath heavy and large shoulder pads. “Measures?” He asked. “I was hoping I was making myself very  _clear_ this is exactly where I want to be – and closer.”

Laranthir narrowed his eyes, not in the mood for games and to be played with. A flirt was the last thing he needed to distract him from his work, not when it was so important. No wonder he'd forgotten Xenos.

“Step. Away.” Laranthir warned in a low tone, a voice he rarely ever used. He reserved it for those rare occasions when a soldier stepped out of line, and since everyone _knew_ him as a kind but stern Warmaster, nobody _dared_ not to listen.

Xenos didn't know any better. “You are playing hard to get, I get it.” Xenos grinned, “In that regard, I-”

Whatever he'd wanted to say, it was cut off. Laranthir grabbed for the hilt of his sword at his waist with a lightning quick movement, pulled the hilt from the scabbard just enough to have the metallic, round end collide with the well-plated part of Xenos' stomach, not hurting him, but causing him to stumble back a couple of steps from the force, lifting his presence from around Laranthir in the process.

The click of his sword falling back into the scabbard was deafeningly loud, and Laranthir did that on purpose. A demonstration that the weapon rested, for now, but that it was  _there_ , a warning and threat in one. 

Xenos caught his balance after two steps, staring at Laranthir in surprise. The secondborn grabbed the letter nonchalantly once more time from the desk, this time not daring to turn away fully, and held it out toward him at arms length.

“I will forget the transgression, Xenos.” Laranthir said, tone sharp and curt, “and I meant what I said. Thank you. And now leave my office at once.”

Xenos body was pulsing, but not with anger or frustration. It was excitement. This kind of rejection he'd only received when he'd started on the path – until he'd perfected the art of seduction. Now it was rare, so very  _rare_ that he burned with anticipation to break Laranthir's resolve, the image of holding the secondborn in his arms bringing a surge of  _want_ .

He took the letter this time, eyes lingering on Laranthir as he did, but without having his fingers linger. “I always get what I want, Laranthir.” Xenos insinuated, voice equally dark and foreboding that Laranthir felt the rush of heat, but didn't show it. “ _Always._ ”

Before Laranthir could answer Xenos bowed his head, turned around and left the room with the clanking of his boots on the paced stone floor, leaving Laranthir to soothe the storm churning through his thoughts. He brought a hand through the fern atop his head and took a deep, steadying breath.

There was a voice inside him that answered joyfully to the attention Xenos was giving him, being desired so much to go through the effort and trouble to seduce him. He...he  _wanted_ to be wanted, but there was a more grand desire behind that. A far greater depth to an inner-most necessity that was essential to personal growth and happiness. 

He didn't want mere desire, he didn't want mere lust. He wanted  _love_ , dedication entwining one soul with the other.

And so the joyful voice grew quiet and disappointed, whispering in dismay  _“You are nothing but a prize to be won for him. No more.”_

Laranthir shook his head, breaking away from the thoughts as one did from brittle, worn shackles. There was no time to dwell on such trivial things – there was too much to do.

The Pact was his beloved now, and he wondered briefly as he rounded his table and sat back down in his chair if that was as fulfilling as he tried to tell himself it would be. 

  
  


 


	10. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick, short update. I would like for this story to converge with the Living World and when the chapters finally arrive that the timeline is the same - so I did some math.  
> You'll need to be getting more chapters here is what my math says.  
> So..yeah. :D Enjoy.

“And?” Boerrn asked, raising his eyes from around the campfire when Xenos approached and sat down on his mat. He threw the envelope toward his friend and the norn caught it with ease, the coins inside clicking promisingly. “Oh. Nice.” Boerrn grinned. “He paid you? I didn't know you were _that_ good.”

Xenos was tempted to lie, but decided against it. “Actually, he threw me out his office.” Xenos grinned, and Boerrn raised an eyebrow.

“You are not letting this go, are you? If the guy pays this well, maybe you should leave him alone. It's a little extra in this...” The norn let his eyes wander of the large shadows settled over the city as the night drowned everything around them. “Unprofitable environment.” The norn finished.

“He'll come around. Everyone needs to relax – _everyone._ ”

“I'll just watch you bite out your teeth on that iron will of his.” Boerrn grinned mirthfully. “You think he'll give us another job even when you fucked up like this?”

“Possibly.” Xenos shrugged. “If we play our cards right, he might try and tell himself he needs us more than the lesson he wants to give me.”

“I wonder if he'll throw you out immediately.” Boerrn smirked. “What did he do exactly? Point to the door and you went with your tail wagging?”

Xenos rolled his eyes. “He actually attacked me. Sort of.” he pointed toward the slight dent in the metal of his armour covering his abdomen, and Boerrn leaned in closer to inspect it and roared out in laughter.

“Bear's balls, that's a pick for you. Looks like you really should watch out.”

“He's stronger than I expected.” Xenos shrugged. When he'd crowded Laranthir and trapped him in the cage of his arms, he'd expected that the Warmaster would be too flustered and too torn between conscience and desire to _actually_ resist. He must have spent too much time with females in the last couple of months. He had most certainly not expected the _power_ behind the strike, not at all. It had reverberated through him and his armour like a shock, and despite that being a warning, he found it all the more intriguing.

“You don't have to _look_ so excited.” Boerrn grimaced and then slowly laid down on his mat, his large hands cupping his neck as he stared up toward the stars, the campfire bringing a dancing light to flicker over his body. “Now go get some sleep. I'll not deal with your grumpy bed-side manner in the morning.”

“You care for me is touching, Boerrn darling.” Xenos teased. “Do you want me to warm you up?”

“If you so much as scoot closer, I'll throw you out into the sea, heavy plate and all.” Boerrn warned and Xenos laughed.

“Yeah yeah, fine.” Xenos laid down in his mat and closed his eyes, thinking of Laranthir in his arms. He wondered what the secondborn would have done had he leaned in, and in his mind it turned out more promising than it ever would in reality, and that surge of heat and feeling of accomplishment slowly let him drift so sleep with a sheepish grin.

 


	11. Work in Progress

Laranthir had not expected for the two mercenaries to show up again, but there they stood once again, in their armour and puissant demeanour at the main gate of Fort Marriner with searching glances. One of the Vigil soldiers pointed toward where Laranthir stood, clearly giving the two directions, and even from the distance Laranthir felt the burn of their eyes.

He waited patiently for the two to approach without making an attempt to move away, trying to ignore the heavy set of Xenos' eyes that seemed glued to him. “What can I do for you?”, he asked blandly, not intent on having small talk. Time was far too precious to be wasted.

“Thanks for the coin.”, Boerrn was the first to speak, and Xenos subtly shifted his weight onto his left leg, head tilting slightly with a knowing smile when he looked at Laranthir, but the warmaster did not meet his eyes. “We were wondering if there is anything else we could help you with.”

It shouldn't surprise Laranthir. They were mercenaries, and the promise of gold was worth more than the simple fun Xenos must have had trying to rile him up last night. It would not be right for Laranthir to send them away for personal reasons, not when they needed all the help they could get.

“I would appreciate any helping hand.”, Laranthir nodded and gestured toward his office, and the two followed close behind him. “The refugees outside of Lion's Arch have to settle in camp that are protected by Lionguard, but every extra security is appreciated. The streets are compromised by bandits and centaurs that see the opportunity in the chaos, and many belongings have been lost, and some families have been torn apart.”

He stepped through the large arch of the Fort, the cool of the stone walls casting them in shadow for a brief moment before torchlight lightened the passage. The steps behind them were matched and even to his own, and the few Crusaders and Pact members that crossed his path greeted him politely, and he did the very same.

When he entered his office he gestured for them to enter and closed the door behind them. With a few quick steps he reached his desk and searched through the pile briefly before he pulled out not just one, or two, or three, but a stack full of parchments that were all clipped together and rustled softly as he lifted them, some ends already crooked and crinkled.

“These are all from people of the city or refugees asking for assistance. They vary in complexity and context. Some are searching for a loved one, others for possession. Some are asking to be escorted, and then others that need help delivering their messages to acquaintances that could help.”

Laranthir glanced around the room and stepped toward a wooden memo-board filled with long completed tasks. He had not had the time to organize them and properly document them, and with a quick few pulls he tore them down and placed the others up in return.

“I will leave all of them here for you to review. If one of these tasks interests you, take it from the board and place it upon my desk when it is finished.”

Xenos and Boerrn stepped closer, inspecting all the applications and petitions. There was a short moment where Xenos wanted to groan because there were so many and all this work was simply not  _worth_ their time when he spotted a report of a child gone missing.

His hand reached out and clasped it, tearing it from the wall before he thought better of it. He squinted his eyes at the poorly drawn picture that had been added with lines of dark coal and then held it up toward Boerrn who mimicked his gaze. “I know her.”, Xenos said. “We saw her the other night, remember?”

“Oh.”; Boerrn made and nodded. “You're right.”

Laranthir held out his hand and Boerrn gave the paper back, letting the secondborn inspect it. Melancholy shifted into Laranthir's features, but he guarded it quickly. “This was posted a week ago.”, he murmured. “I remember the family. If you find her, they would be eternally grateful.” There was a small pause. “They were in such distress to lose their daughter. Please, find her.”

At the words, honest and heartfelt, even Xenos could not find anything inappropriate to say and he took the parchment back, folding it neatly and stowing it into his belt pouch at the side of his hip.

“Leave it to us.”, Xenos said and this was the first time Laranthir met his eyes contemplatively before the secondborn nodded.

“Thank you.”

“So, we just barge in here at leisure?”, Boerrn asked, interrupting the moment, and Laranthir lifted his gaze.

“I will let the stationed guards know that you are guests in service of the Pact. You may come and go as you wish, but please, do not remove anything from this office. It will be open day and night.”

Boerrn nodded and gestured with a curt movement of his head toward the door. “Then let's go. I think I have an idea of where to go.”

Xenos followed the norn toward the doorway where he halted for a brief moment, hand bracing against the wooden doorframe. The eyes gleamed promisingly, and Xenos gave Laranthir a last knowing smile before he followed the norn and walked out the door.

Laranthir looked after the two, wondering if perhaps he'd misjudged them. Perhaps there was more than the greed he associated with all mercenaries. There was time to hope yet.

 


	12. Trace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xenos and Boerrn on a mission to find the little girl :3 Not much to say, really. Enjoy!

“It  _ stinks _ .” Boerrn grumbled. “Why is it always the sewers? Why not some cave in a cliff or behind a waterfall? Why the  _ sewers _ ?”

“Shhh!” Xenos made, voice echoing sharply from the cylinder-formed walls around them. “They must be just ahead.”

They'd followed the trail Xenos had remembered and come to the conclusion that the the little girl had been most likely abducted by bandits in the hope of charging a large fee for her return and freedom. Most likely.

It just did not make any sense that in the days she'd been missing, the bandits had not made a single move. At least they would not let her starve, and considering that she was nothing but a child, nine-years at best, they would most likely leave her alone.

Xenos pressed his back against the cool wall, his armour discarded in a small hidden stash near their camp at the cliffs to make movement in the sewers as quiet and stealthy as possible – and to avoid the stains on the plate, and there was only a soft leather tunic that covered his body now. By the Pale Tree, Boerrn was right.

It smelled utterly horrible.

With a shift of his body he tilted to the side and turned his head to glance around the corner and quickly pulled himself back.

“What is it?" Boerrn asked, concerned, and Xenos looked up at him.

“Krait." he all but mouthed, barely making a noise, and Boerrn's face hardened, the grip on his axe tightening. The snake-like creatures slithered over the ground, barely making a sound except for the soft batter and shift on the water covering the ground.

“How many?”

Xenos dared to peek around the edge again and noticed not only that they were Krait, but that they all had a strange green, enveloping glow around them, and he pulled back before the glow of his ferns and bark could catch their attention. “Twelve, maybe more." he whispered. “They must be with the Toxic alliance.”

“Shit." Boerrn cursed. “What about the bandits?”

“I saw three bodies piled on the floor, skewered by spears. Have a guess.”

But they grew quiet when there was a loud scream, a male one, and then a gasp of surprise and splatter of water. “Tell ussss." a voice hissed, and that must be one of the Krait. “Where isssss it?”

“I swear I don't know!" the Bandit cried and Xenos nodded for Boerrn to follow him, edging toward the bend. They had surprise on their side, but for only a moment. Xenos stretched out his open hand behind him, signalling for Boerrn to halt. “Our leader had it, he must be around here somewhere – No – NO DON'T- !”

A spear pierced through flesh and the human male made a gurgling noise, gasped and then must have fallen over because the water splattered once again. “Nexxxt." the Krait ordered and Xenos waited patiently until footsteps announced the next prisoner, and when the human began to whimper and beg he signalled for Boerrn to move in.

The guardian jumped from their hiding place out into the open, water gushing out over the side by his enormous size and weight. “Hey!" he roared. “I like fish-sticks!”

Unconventional as the lure was, it had a most promising effect. The krait turned around toward him, hissing in anger and coming toward him with quick, slithering motions.

“Come and get some." Boerrn growled and charged forward out of Xenos' view. Boerrn crushed the first line of attackers, axe cutting through the slim and bending bodies of the Krait, leaving trails of blood and dark spatters on the walls. His charge brought him right into them, allowing them to surround him, and he kept them at bay with a spin of his axe.

That was Xenos' signal to make the swooping, this time. He charged forward, greatsword already drawn and angled beside his body, tip barely brushing over the surface. He gave a loud, brave war-cry and startled the Krait that had all but turned toward Boerrn – their backs toward him – and had no time to react as he slashed through them with a large scything motion of his blade.

A spear came flying his way and he jerked to the side, bringing the weight of his greatsword around and carrying the momentum with him into a jump, turning in the air and cutting through a krait hard enough to tear through its body and squish it between his greatsword and the wall.

He lifted it back, blocked a sword that came swinging his way with a pull of his greatsword and then brought it back and lunged forward, effectively separating the krait's torso and lower body.

The body withered and fell onto the floor in a splash and before it had completely fallen, the human male was up on his feet and scrambling toward the way Xenos' and Boerrn had come, but Xenos grabbed his arm and jolted him back with enough force to launch the human from his feet and pull him back. The male cried out and lifted his arms when he fell backward into the waters with a splash and then scrambled backward away from Xenos, fear sparkling wildly in his eyes.

“Please don't kill me." The bandit begged. “I swear I know nothing of-”

“Shut up." Xenos ordered, kicking the human down with a boot against his chest. The human gasped and didn't dare move. “We're looking for a human girl. Looks like this.” Xenos lifted the parchment and the drawing for the human to see.

“T-the Krait took her." the bandit stammered and Xenos cursed.

“Mulch. Of course they did.” He lifted his boot and signaled for the human to make himself scarce without casting him another glance, the rush of human feet slowly fading into silence.

“What do we do?" Boerrn asked, pushing his axe into the skull of a still-moving krait and effectively stopping it from moving ever again. “She's most likely dead.”

_ Thank you,  _ Laranthir's voice echoed softly through his head and it buzzed in his veins.

_ Thorns. _

“We'll find her. Dead or alive." Xenos replied curtly and marched past Boerrn and didn't meet the norn's frowning gaze.

  
  



	13. Gut Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention that I love Efut? I think she's completely underrated. She's a strategist for the Pact for crying out loud, she's most likely responsible for most evacuation protocols that exist in worst-case scenarios. And I bet Laranthir is more vital than we will ever truly know, too.  
> But ah, well. I'm trying to redeem that a bit. Here we go! :D

At two days Laranthir stared up at the memo-board and began to wonder. He'd seen no sign of the two mercenaries and he'd found no letter upon his desk.

At three days he began to worry. He sent a Crusader to check in with the Lionguard to ensure they had been seen and taken to their assigned posts, but the Lionguard were searching for them as well – because they had not shown up to their conscripted duty.

Had they fled? Had he been wrong after all?

_ Do not overthink it,  _ Laranthir told himself and rubbed his temples with a circling motion of his index fingers.  _ You have so much to worry about. _

The aforementioned being especially concerning news about Scarlet. Her involvement in all this was certain, but not quite determined. What was her motive? Her drive? And more importantly, her target?

The scholars of the Durmand Priory attempted to bring any knowledge about her to light, sifting through books and data and other source materials to search for any indication of why Scarlet did what she did – and that which they found was disconcerting.

There were some things of the past that had been dug up, things about Scarlet leaving the Pale Tree very early to discover herself without the force of the Pale Tree upon her. Laranthir thought it was no pressure or force at all. Instead he found it soothing to have the Pale Mother guide his path, and his position in the Vigil he'd acquired over the years in her name had pleased her greatly – and that in return had made him feel accomplished.

Scarlet, or Ceara as her name had been when they had been nothing but Sapling newly sprouted from the Pale Tree's bough, had always been aloof and determined. She'd stayed away from them all, her family, and had refused to converse more than a few scarce and meek words of hello and goodbye.

Laranthir had not thought much of it. How could he, after all? He had been overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the world. It had been so much larger than he'd ever imagined, even though the Dream had given him insight. Looking back now he regretted being so indifferent so his sister's percularities, especially now that she seemed to be an enemy

“ _ Hello." he greeted her with a smile. “It's so beautiful here.” _

_ Ceara glanced around, the red band of her thorned hair shifting as she moved. Her face was stern and frozen, as if she'd never learned how to smile. Her eyes wandered over the planes, the carefully woven passages that were placed just for them so they could cross with ease. “If you say so." she replied and stepped away, the grass rustling beneath her feet, and Laranthir had glanced after her in wonder before shrugging and turning his gaze forward. _

“ _ What happened to you? _ " Laranthir wondered quietly, his eyes gazing emptily into his folded hands, his elbows propped up on the wooden desk.

“Why the serious face?" Efut chirped when she entered and Laranthir barely had time to catch a glimpse of her head and her flappy ears before she disappeared behind the height of his desk and scrambled toward the small wooden box Laranthir kept around to give her something to stand upon whenever they worked together.

“Efut." he greeted and gestured beside him when she finally appeared behind his desk again. It had filled him with great mirth the first few times her small form had disappeared behind desks and boxes, but now it was a natural occurrence. “Should you not be in Fort Trinity?”

“Yes, but my gut tells me you're right, so I asked Trahearne to let me take a look.”

“Your gut?" Laranthir clarified as he watched her put the box beside him and she climbed it, her hands clinging to the edge of the desk before she let her eyes wander over the many stacks of papers and parchments, discarded envelopes and candles burned so low they could not be lit again. “I thought asura do not trust in their guts.”

“There is evidence of a somatic and neurological interaction between the brain and the inner organs. Information is actually passed in between and evaluated to the point of creating even nausea, diarrhoea or-”

“Alright." Laranthir laughed. “No need to delve deeper. Perhaps once we have more time.”

She grinned. “Oh Laranthir, when do we ever have time? Speaking of time; there is evidence stacking up about Scarlet that is quite unnerving, and I have come to affirm their correctness.”

“There are various rumours and conclusions that the scholars of the Priory have drawn."Laranthir began and selected a piece of paper; a letter from Ela Makkay stating her theory on the matter. “ _ This _ is what concerns our jurisdiction as the Pact, if what she believes should turn out to be true.”

_ Warmaster Laranthir of the Wild, _

_ First of all I would like to thank you for your initiative to help us against Scarlet. Her actions have caused much distress not only to the refugees seeking to flee from her unjustified attacks on norn and charr alike. Her influence extends even further, and I am afraid that our research seems to slowly point in one direction alone, and that we may have uncovered not only her intention, but also her motivation. _

_ So far we know that Scarlet is a sylvari by the former name of Ceara, and that she rejected the Pale Tree early in her life to travel and indulge in the most fascinating sciences and crafts to extend her knowledge. Her life has lead her to charr, norn and asura alike and acquired knowledge in various fields of study and managed to become one of the few non-asuran to be granted access to the colleagues and labs where she, at this point for an unknown reason, murdered her former teacher and was expelled from the colleague. _

_ She resurfaced only now and there is so far very little correlation between her background and her actions today. The Molten Facilities have proven to be not only mining facilities, but were also used to create various metallic constructs ranging from weapons to ships, allowing her to supply an army. Her designs that combine charr construction and plating techniques with Inquest magitech equipment is only more reason to assume she is preparing for war. _

_ That however is not all. Her most recent addition, the toxin spread from the Nightmare Tower, was a threat that was thankfully terminated by Majory Delaqua, but we have reason to assume that the antitoxin inserted is the only way to improve her cocktail of poison. _

_ Additionally there were numerous sightings over Lonar's Pass of a giant ship – a threat that looms over the Durmand Priory, but there so far has been no indication that we are a target. _

_ Should any news about Scarlet reveal themselves, I will inform you. _

  * _Ela Makkay_



Efut was quiet as she read, her face not showing any sign of a reaction at all, but Laranthir knew that face well. It was the face she made when she was engrossed and focussed, and only the most avid would attempt to bring her from her reverie.

“Interesting, yes." she murmured after having read it thrice -  _ “Thorough as always."  _ Laranthir thought with a smile – and handed the parchment back to him. “But this gives us no information on her intentions or her motivation at all.”

“Indeed." Laranthir agreed. “I believe we can assume that-”

“Ela knows more than she is willing to say, or, that at this point in time her thesis has too little evidence to support it." Efut concluded for him, once again proving that their thoughts were alike.

“I do not believe Makkay to have malicious intent." Laranthir amended slowly. “If Scarlet wants a war then we must be prepared for the consequences.”

“Ah." Efut made. “Is that why your desk looks like a core reactor exploded upon it?”

“I believe there would scarcely be anything of my desk, were that the case." Laranthir chuckled lightly and got a grin in return from Efut that revealed a row of canine-shaped, tiny teeth. “I am currently working on a strategy for the worst case – that there will be an open out war between us and Scarlet.”

Efut chewed on her bottom lip, her large, round eyes staring down at the letter once again. “Scarlet does not play by any rules but her own." she murmured slowly, but it sounded as if she was sorting her own mind rather than that she was speaking to him. “With all the effort she's put forth – the Molten Alliance, the Toxic Alliance, the Aethrblades – I somehow find it hard to believe that her intention is to go full scale. She's after something more subtle.”

“How can you be sure?”

Efut glanced up at him, and even though they had joked about it just a few moments ago, now her face was stern and serious when she said, “My gut says so.”

  
  
  
  



	14. Conditioner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conditioner: In this case, meaning to make something soft. Like your laundry. Or sylvari, in this case. :D

Xenos hated Krait. No, wait. He  _ hated  _ water, he  _ hated  _ the aquabreather, and he  _ loathed  _ fish and krait and  _ everything _ floating  _ in  _ water.

The bubbles came rushing from his aquabreather as he struggled with a leather-like whip of sea-algae that coiled around his throat tightly. His fingertips pulled at the cord, ripping it free, and he kicked out at the Krait in front of him with a frustrated stream of bubbles.

The snake slithered in the water easily and dodged his kick, reaching for its spear and thrusting it in his direction when Xenos tilted to the side, grabbed it mid-strike and ripped it from the krait's grasp. With a quick twist he turned it and plunged it tip first into the kraits body and then pushed against the body with his foot, pulling the body free.

The water darkened considerably as the blood gushed forth and the krait sunk down, down,  _ down  _ into the darkness of the depths and disappeared beneath the waves. Xenos let his fingertips wander over the tight feeling still encumbering his throat and then glanced up toward the stacked tower of old, metal and steel pipes, wooden planks covered in slippery algae and the many cages that shifted ever so softly in the tide.

This place looked like it had been built from the Nightmare itself. A place of death and torture and the bones that lay bleak in the cages were only evidence of it. He swam upwards, saw the blue ball of Boerrn's shield of absorption somewhere down below. The light shimmered through the polluted water brightly, bright enough to draw the attention of the other krait as they had planned – and Xenos drifted higher and higher, clasping the spear in his one hand while the other rowed through the waves.

His eyes wandered over the cages, recognizing only a few of the life-forms that were trapped inside. Most of them were long dead, rotten and preyed upon by little fish that tore the flesh clean from bone. He recognized a freshly decomposing body of a quaggan and tore his eye away from the empty sockets staring back at him.

He _ hated  _ this.

Above him he saw the sliver of something white and pink and noticed a tuft of blonde hair. Eagerly he swam upwards and when finally he was high enough the angle of his eyes allowed view of the person inside, he looked upon a little human girl, her hands bounds together tightly to the floor of the cell, an aquabreather strapped lazily over her mouth and nose that was far too large for her.

She startled when she saw him, a figure of gleaming fire and embers in the polluted water, and he lifted a finger toward where his mouth should be, signalling for her to be quiet. He made a shooing motion and the fear in her eyes was so evident he felt sorry for her, a pang of anger rushing through him.

_ By the Pale Tree _ , she was a  _ child _ . How could the krait do something like this?

_ No, don't,  _ a voice inside warned.  _ Don't care. Caring is dangerous. _

When finally she understood she scooted back and with a nimble twist of the spear's blade he pried between the door and cage, breaking it open with a splintering noise that was suppressed from the waves. He reached inside and she scrambled back fearfully, but his hand reached for the rope binding her to the bottom of the cage and ripped it free with a motion of his hand.

His hand hovered there for a moment as the ties untangled and drifted into the waters, flailing limply in the waves. Her eyes were large and round and a piercing, pale blue. Her blonde hair weaved with every tide and Xenos lifted his hand, palm up, gesturing for her to come closer.

She stared at him for a moment longer before she glanced down at his palm that was glimmering through the water in a pattern of red as if coals had been embedded beneath his skin, and the tips of the foliage atop his head sparkled the same. Her eyes trailed over him in horrified fascination and Xenos gestured with his hand once again, patiently waiting for the girl to grasp his hand. She hesitated a moment longer before she grasped his hand and he felt how cold her fingers were, how small her hand was against his own.

He pulled her closer carefully, slowly enough not to startle her, and pulled her aginst him where he cradled her in his arm against his chest. Her fingers gripped into the tunic and tightened its pull around his torso, but not enough that he felt constricted.

A quick glance below told him that Boerrn was already coming up again, a swarm of angry krait beneath him, and Xenos didn't wait for the norn to catch up. He swam upward toward the sparkle of the surface, the light streaming through the polluted waters in arrows of light.

Each stroke of his arms and legs propelled him further until finally he breached the surface and quickly turned his head from side to side to search for the shore and swam across. When he finally felt ground beneath his feet again he would never admit to anyone that he felt a wonderful flood of relief and he stumbled through the sand and tightened his hold on the girl that was in his arm still as he dashed toward where Boerrn and he had stashed their heavy armour and weapons.

They would have given them a great disadvantage in waters such as this, the weight a more grave disadvantage in comparison to the protection the armour offered. They'd agreed to leave them here, but Xenos was glad to finally bring his fingers around the familiar and comfortable handle of his greatsword and whirled around with it in hand when he heard splashing behind him.

Boerrn came from the water, sputtering and cursing, the krait were quick to follow, rising from the waves onto the sandy shore on slithery, long tails and erecting their bodies into the air. The girl's fingers curled into his clothes, tearing at them, and Xenos lifted his arm to deflect a spear that was thrown his way. The shriek of the girl in his ear nearly made him deaf and he was glad she nuzzled her head into his chest, her scream of surprise and terror muffled.

Once Boerrn had his axe, the Krait fell like petals in the wind. Body after body piled up, and finally the Krait retreated back into the waves with angry hisses that promised revenge. Xenos watched the rippling of the surface for a few more minutes before he took a few steps back toward the bank of grass and shore and plunged the sword tip first into the sand, grasped the aquabreather and tore it from his mouth and nose.

“I  _ hate  _ Krait." he cursed and drove his free hand through the ferns atop his head that were dripping still, the tickle of water running over his neck and back. “ _ Thorns _ , they are  _ disgusting. _ ”

“And easily agitated." Boerrn commented dryly, just as exhausted as he was. They'd spent  _ days  _ searching for a trail of her, losing hope of ever finding her when they'd finally tickled the information out of Nightmare Courtiers that had allied with the Krait and formed the Toxic Alliance. He was glad to rid himself of both members of the opposing parties.

They'd found trails of the Krait in Kessex Hills – a commendable distance away from Lion's Arch, and thankfully, here they were.

“I wanna go home." the girl muffled through tears and Xenos looked down at her, her weight barely a trouble at all. She was not even as heavy as his greatsword, he realized.

“We'll take you home." Xenos promised and nudged the aquabreather from her nose and mouth as gently as he could and she closed her eyes as he pulled it from her head and discarded the rusted metal thing onto the sand. Her cheeks were chaffed and red from where it had rested unkindly against her skin. His eyes wandered over her face for a moment longer, assessing not only her physical but her psychological state, and noticed that her whole body trembled and shivered. Her clothes were soaked and cold, and the blow of wind that danced over the lake was not offering respite. “You're safe now." Xenos assured her, voice turning into a more softer tone.

“I wanna go home." she said again.

“We'll take you there." Xenos said again, surer this time, and it was as if only now she believed him. She averted her eyes and stared at the ground, her gaze drifting away, and Xenos took it as a sign. He knelt down on the ground on one knee and gently let her down to the ground and for a moment she refused to let go – at which Boerrn chuckled. “I have to don my armour." Xenos explained, but her small fingers curled into his fabric still even though her feet were already on the ground.

She wore no shoes, her small human feet naked and bare, and her full body shiver turned more violent than before. Xenos cursed himself for not having thought of stowing his tunic with his armour – at least then he would have had something to cover her with. Of course she would be freezing like this.

“Here." Boerrn murmured, his large feet crunching the sand beneath. He held a cloak in his hand and Xenos wondered if Boerrn had thought so far ahead – or if it simply was coincidence, either way the norn draped it over her, managing to spin it around her three times before he tugged in the end.

In that time Xenos pulled over his armour, the leather still wet and dripping beneath. It was not the most amazing of feelings he'd felt and he was sure that the leather tunic would actually stick closer to his skin and enable the armour to chafe his skin – but they had little choice.

They should not linger a moment longer, not with a trail of angry Krait that were evidently inbound. When finally he was as satisfied as could be considering that it was uncomfortable whatever he did he finally pulled his greatsword free and brought it over his shoulder to glide into its sheath.

With his other arm he scooped the girl from the ground, eliciting a small shriek of a surprise from her that was muffled from a layer of the cloak draped over her mouth. “Let's go." Xenos gestured with his head toward the grass and the hills, hoping to finally gain some distance between himself and the Krait.

The girl kept quiet as they walked, her pale fingers flexed so tightly into the cloak the white of bone protruded from beneath. It was only then that Xenos noticed that her body was scrawny, clearly underfed, and he could not imagine the kind of horrors she must have seen. Sylvari were born adolescent, but the horrors of the world did not leave them untouched. When he'd first seen what the Nightmare Court were capable able off, he too had stilled in fear and trepidation. That, however, was nothing compared to the innocence and ignorance of children – one Xenos would never truly know, or come to understand.

Xenos almost startled when her head fell against his shoulder and the soft, rhythmic shift of her body and a warm brush of breath tickled over his neck and chin. When he glanced down he realized why.

“Asleep, huh?" Boerrn asked in a quiet voice, and his eyes turned a lot softer whenever he looked down at the little girl. Xenos wondered if perhaps something akin to fatherhood awakened for the norn at this point, since he as well as all other races except for sylvari could have children.

“You wanna carry her?" Xenos asked and realized that without him doing it unconsciously, his voice too lowered into a whisper. Boerrn shook his head.

“Let's not disturb her. She'd had a rough few days.”

Yup, definitely getting soft.

She shifted in his arm and Xenos adjusted his hold on her just slightly and carefully, making sure she did not wake when he realized Boerrn was not the only one who was getting soft.

  
  
  
  



	15. The Seed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like, wow. I rewrote this chapter four times now. Here you go before I change my mind again. >_<  
> Ah, and I apologize for the sudden storm of chapters, but I have some catching up to do~

Laranthir startled awake when a someone gave his shoulder a gentle but firm shake and he lifted his head from his forearms and blinked into the dim light at who had woken him.

His brain was confused for a single moment before his thoughts startled and woke him fully, and he pushed himself to stand the next instant. He'd only seen glimmers of flame and ember before him for a single moment, but now that his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the figure silhouetted against the darkness.

It was Xenos, his pattern pulsing softly in a red, fiery glow that lightened his eyes and skin, the features on his face barely visible. He was still bent forward slightly, his arm raised out in front of him aloft, and his other, cradled tightly against him and curled in a blanket-

“You found her." Laranthir breathed, not daring to raise his voice. Xenos finally erected himself, creating some more distance between them. He could see the exhausted lines more clearly now and wondered just what Xenos had been up to all this time – and where he and Boerrn had gone to retrieve her.

Xenos shifted and Laranthir rounded his table, anticipating that the mercenary certainly wanted to get rid of her, but Xenos only adjusted his grip and rolled his shoulders with a grimace. Laranthir stood rooted, his one hand splayed on the table, and blinked at Xenos in boggled surprise.

“Yeah." Xenos finally answered in a low hum, and his voice was nothing like the confident drawl that it usually was. When Laranthir still didn't manage to bring out a word, Xenos continued hesitantly, “She's fine – as much as I can tell, anyhow.”

Laranthir finally shook off his astonishment and gestured for Xenos to follow him with wave of his arm. “Come with me." he added softly, and in passing he glanced over the mercenary and noticed that the armour looked unscathed, but that the leather beneath seemed to have seen better days. “Are you alright?" Laranthir asked and Xenos gave him a renowned, knowing smile.

“Did I worry you?" Xenos quipped.

“Not tremendously." Laranthir answered levelly, managing not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, but  _ a bit _ , huh?”

“It took you longer than I expected." Laranthir reprimanded jestingly. He lead Xenos out into the cold and dead of the night, stars shimmering in the marine dark sky as their boots barely crunched over the ground.

“We got her back." Xenos replied, and Laranthir knew from the slight pout in his voice that his pride must have been affected.

“Indeed." Laranthir amended with a soft smile, and Xenos face was unreadable, the pulse of his pattern lightning his bark in a red sheen. It was easy to see why Xenos was quite so successful in what he did, and why his work as a mercenary befitted him. He had broad, strong shoulders that were uncommon for sylvari, and his form reminded Laranthir more of that of a human. It was easy to see the appeal others saw, even if he himself refused his gaze to linger and his thoughts to stray. He could see it if he bothered to – and that was all the admission he was willing to make.

After just a couple more steps Laranthir moved through the large arc and out toward the slope that lead down to the beach. Across the sand were many tents and fires that gleamed in the distance, and in the dancing flames Laranthir could make out figures that hushed through. Voices began to drift toward them as they stepped closer, but all of them were hushed. The atmosphere was heavy with trepidation and melancholy, and once again Laranthir found himself pitying the refugees that were forced to live under such circumstances.

Laranthir approached a campfire and a couple that sat hurdled together, arms embracing one another like two entwined stone statues. They were both quiet, asleep almost, when Laranthir moved around them and crouched in front of them. Their eyes gazed at him emptily, knowing very well that his visits did not mean that they should hope. Laranthir had visited the refugees often, listening to their complaints, their woes and worries, only to find he did not have enough hours in the day to help them all.

“Warmaster Laranthir." the man murmured.

“I have marvellous news." Laranthir said and could not hold back his smile. The couple lightened up, faces suddenly full of anxious hope. “A member of the Lionguard has found your daughter.”

Laranthir's eyes trailed over to where Xenos stood rooted just a few feet away, and he noticed that Xenos seemed uncomfortable. The mercenaries eyes dragged over the many campfires and people, eyebrows frowned in contemplation, and when the woman followed his gaze toward where Xenos stood she gave a chocked sob, collected her skirts and jumped to her feet.

Xenos visibly startled and tensed, but thankfully not enough to deem the woman of any danger and draw his blade. The woman stretched out her arms and took the girl from Xenos arms, cloak and all with such tender care that Laranthir couldn't help but smile ruefully.

“Sally." she chocked out a sob and nuzzled her cheek against the child's head, and not a second after her husband was behind her, embracing her and the waking form of Sally.

Sally blinked sleepily and confused for only a moment before she woke and began to cry as well, wailing  _ “Mother!”  _ and  _ “Father!" _ her voice breaking shrilly through the deafening silence. The campfire was roused by the display, heads turning toward the heart-warming reunion, and Laranthir slowly rose to his feet and slowly stepped over toward where Xenos still stood.

“Thank you." the woman breathed toward him, eyes glittering with tears of joy. “ _ Thank you _ .”

Laranthir placed a hand on Xenos shoulder. “He found her; it is him you must thank, not me.”

The woman turned her head to Xenos. “Thank you. We didn't think...we thought...” she took a shacking breath and her husband pulled her closer into the warmth of his arms.

“Where did you find her?" the father asked and Xenos gave Laranthir an uncertain glance.

“I would...speak of the details with you on the morrow. We will look after her health at the keep.”

“Why?" the woman asked almost sharply, her arms tugging her child even closer.

“She's had a traumatising experience." Laranthir continued softly. “You are, of course, welcome to stay with her. I would not separate you again.”

“And you'll tell us?" the man asked, voice glancing at Xenos with hard eyes. The mercenary held the gaze for a few agonizing seconds before he nodded.

“I will.”

The man nodded. “Then...we'll be at the keep tomorrow.”

“Thank you." Laranthir inclined his head and turned away, giving Xenos' shoulder a soft tug in a beckoning gesture. Xenos followed him hesitantly, staring back over his shoulder toward where the family of three stood.

“Is it wise to tell them?" Xenos wondered. “They look like the kind that are faint of heart.”

“They will be the ones who have to deal with the trauma their child went through. In order to act accordingly and understand any developments that might come from this, they have to know its source." Laranthir answered.

“And since when is that part of your job?" Xenos wondered with a raised eyebrow.

“I have made it my job when I decided to be part of the Vigil – to watch and protect the people of Tyria from the force of the dragons.”

“And playing psychiatrist is one of them?”

“I am not qualified for that role." Laranthir admitted. “But at least I can ensure that the right people know of the dangers of trauma – to ensure that the girl is raised and to prevent any inferred psychological illnesses.”

“I don't understand why you care so much for them." Xenos murmured and looked over his shoulder. “If they can not fight for themselves then the rule of survival dictates that they die.”

“Then why did you save her?" Laranthir wondered.

Xenos gave him a look. “I am a mercenary." Xenos deadpanned. “Have a guess.”

“That is only fair, I suppose." Laranthir amended. “I will not push my beliefs on you, although I disagree with your view.”

“Then at least I'll go back to my campfire less annoyed than could be.”

Laranthir chuckled. “I am glad.” The fort lay ahead drawing long, bordered shadows in the ground. The moon had risen high enough to be a shining, silver crescent in the sky, and not a single cloud was in sight. “”If you do no mind me asking,” Laranthir began politely, “Where did you find her?”

“It was tedious to track her down." Xenos admitted. “First the bandits, then the Krait..." he sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “We bailed her out from the Krait in Kessex Hills.”

“The krait?" Laranthir asked in surprise. “You...you stormed their tower in the Kessex Hills?”

“Not the Tower of Nightmares, no." Xenos quickly said. “Just an underwater base.”

“That is...impressive, still." Laranthir admitted. “And you came away unscathed?”

“Come to think of it,” Xenos began and let his fingertips brush over his neck. “One krait nearly strangled me. I'm sure you could kiss it better.”

“If that is sufficient treatment, I am sure you will manage fine without it." Laranthir replied dryly, but he could not help the soft tug of his lips. Of course Xenos would not let a chance like this slip.

“Ah, you are so  _ cruel _ , Laranthir.”

“Warmaster." Laranthir corrected tersely.

“No, no. That's no fun. I like Laranthir that much better.”

“It is disrespectful." Laranthir reprimanded him, but Xenos seemed unaffected.

“Titles are only for creating  _ distance _ . I want to get closer, preferably skin to skin, but I'll go one step at a time if I have to.”

At that Laranthir felt a soft burn through his fibres.  _ By the Pale Tree,  _ how could one flirt quite so openly? Was Xenos not embarrassed by the words that fled his mouth? “You may want to start over on another subject." Laranthir said. “I am not interested in your games.”

“Tell yourself that." Xenos shrugged with a sly smile. “I know you  _ wonder _ about what it would be like. For me to push you up against this wall and kiss you like you've never been before.”

_ Thorned brambles.  _ “Do you even hear yourself?" Laranthir frowned and ignored the tingling in his fingers. Tried to ignore the faint, distant memory of his one and only kiss that had been shared in a similar night like this, dark and cold, lips pressing together uncertainly and chastely, only to draw away startled and never to speak to one another again.

“All I hear is  _ Do it _ from your mouth.”

“Then your hearing must be impaired." Laranthir sighed and was glad to see the fort ahead, the stone arch already looming enough to offer protection. Why was it that he felt he needed it? He wanted to flee this conversation as quickly as possible because it was terribly awkward.

It was not affecting him. He  _ refused  _ to let Xenos words in, refused to hear them spark that part of him that wanted to be held, to be loved – because Xenos was not after such depth. He was after something superficial, only another trophy to add to his game.

It should not surprise him –  _ By the Tree –  _ it really shouldn't. But when Xenos put a hand on his shoulder just as he passed beneath the arch and pushed him back against the wall he let out a huff of surprise when his back collided with hard, unyielding stone. Laranthir lifted his arm in a circling motion between them and pushed Xenos' arm from his shoulder, with his other hand he grasped toward the handle of a dagger that rested in a sheath on the small of his back and dragged it free with a lightning quick movement until the blade halted and sparkled underneath Xenos' chin.

Xenos had been in the motion of leaning in and stilled instantly, his yellow eyes pulsing like a fire when he regarded the dagger carefully. The mercenary slowly lifted his eyes to meet Laranthir's eyes, and Laranthir squinted them in a serious and threatening way.

“Step away." Laranthir ordered and Xenos lifted his hands and took a step back, bringing distance between him, Laranthir and the blade.

But much to Laranthir's surprise, whatever desire had tempted Xenos to act so rashly glimmered in his eyes still, the pulse of his pattern like coals in a hearth. The corners of Xenos' mouth twitched and moved into a wicked, triumphant smile. “You are making this harder than it has to be." Xenos purred.

“ _ This _ ,” Laranthir clarified, “is not  _ anything _ .”

“Not with that attitude." Xenos grinned and then the mercenary seemed to relax, rolling his shoulders and giving a soft sigh. “Alright. I get it. You are not in the mood.” The grin never left Xenos lips and it made all of this just  _ that  _ much more infuriating. “I've been there before.”

Laranthir slowly dropped his dagger and put it back in its sheath with a clicking noise. “I suggest you find someone else." he said with his eyes still glaring. “I have no time for your games.”

“But  _ Laranthir _ ,” Xenos pouted. “It's only a game when two play.”

“I am  _ serious. _ ” Laranthir was exasperated now. “You think this is merely a  _ game _ , but this is  _ life.  _ Lives are at stake every day, and I can not afford to be distracted by a Sapling. Did you know we are at the verge of a war? Of course not. You are concerned with only yourself.” Laranthir took a deep breath and then shook his head. “I need to help these people. If you interfere with what I have made my calling, you will be an enemy to my cause. You can choose to stay and help, or leave.”

Xenos looked...positively stunned, for a few, brief moments. Laranthir did not have that much more to add, glad that some of the frustration he always carried but never quite showed to anyone hung out there, in the air, and that now, finally, things might actually go back to how they had been.

“I will give you time to mull it over." Laranthir said, voice more quiet and collected now. “Only the Pale Tree knows how little I understand of how your mind truly works, but I  _ know  _ there is more to you than...just greed and lust.”

When Laranthir shifted along the arc and into the shadow of the corridor he was worried for few split seconds that Xenos might assault him, that he might have addressed point that were tender and mean, but his steps were the only sound to echo along the stone walls and the door to his office closer with a final, low click.

He sunk back against the wood with his back and let out a long, shaky breath.  _ Thorns _ , he had handled that badly. Who was he to reprimand a mercenary like Xenos? He'd called him a  _ Sapling _ . That had been such poor etiquette for an argument, frustration or no. He regretted having almost exploded on Xenos like this, but there was no taking it back now.

When he glanced toward the memo board he wondered only if he'd scared the mercenary away and if he 'd see him again and felt guilt that slowly crawled up his spine.

Who was he to reprimand anyone for being a  _ Sapling  _ when he'd acted like one himself?

 


	16. Sinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of backstory. More of that in the following chapters...but I am sure you already get the drift.

Xenos had to be honest with himself: nobody had ever,  _ ever  _ talked to him in the manner that Laranthir had. Surely friends and lovers had  _ jested  _ that he was insatiable and unhealthily indulged in the sexual parts of life, but they had never  _ meant  _ it.

So when Laranthir had walked toward his office Xenos had stood dumbfounded and confused, staring after the secondborn. For a moment he wondered if he should run after him, grab his wrist and whirl him around (Some women liked to play hard to get and would  _ pretend  _ to walk away, he'd found, which was infuriating and both intriguing), but Laranthir was no such person.

When Laranthir turned his back to you, it meant you  _ fucked up.  _ That the secondborn had said his piece and was leaving you to think it over, to reflect on what had been said and done, and  _ by the Pale Tree _ , it felt utterly awful.

The first thing Xenos felt was anger. Laranthir was not  _ allowed  _ to reprimand him as he had; Laranthir was a secondborn and older, but that did not mean Laranthir understood anything.

The second thing he felt was...rue. A feeling that was foreign and felt like a shower with cold, icy water that ran over his spine.

_ You think this is merely a game, but this is life. Lives are at stake every day, and I can not afford to be distracted by a Sapling. Did you know we are at the verge of a war? Of course not. You are concerned with only yourself.” Laranthir took a deep breath and then shook his head. “I need to help these people. If you interfere with what I have made my calling, you will be an enemy to my cause. You can choose to stay and help, or leave.” _

_ Thorns _ . Xenos felt utterly terrible. He'd felt already confronted with all kinds of emotions when the woman had run toward him to rip the girl from his grasp, when he'd seen the joyful tears and heard the bubble of tearful laughter.

He'd changed their lives. He'd...

His fist crunched uncomfortably when he struck the wall, and the echo of bark crackling under the pressure as his knuckles cracked open was almost deafening, the throb of pain only a low thrum.

“ _ I want to help.” _

_ The sylvari took his hand in his own and lifted it to his beautiful, dark lips, the pattern of white glowing in soft, steady pulses. “You can not." the sylvari demurred with a sad smile and kissed his knuckles. “You must stay here.” _

“ _ I know I can." Xenos urged. “I am strong enough for this, I can protect you-” _

_ A lithe, long and dark finger pressed against his lips, effectively making him grow quiet. “I do not need your help any longer." the sylvari said and the words took a few seconds to drip in; words that were glutinous and tough as sap dripping over bark, but once they reached his brain, Xenos gaped. _

“ _ What-" he began, but the sylvari shook his head with a smile and tutted as if he was scolding a small child. The ranked wall of thorned vines behind him that had looked like a dark, foreboding garden opened as a figure stepped forth, and Xenos almost quivered at the sight of Cadeyrn as the Nightmare Courtier sauntered closer from the distance. _

“ _ You have given me all I need." the sylvari smiled, and Xenos' opened his mouth, but brought no words out. “You have brought your friends to the nightmare. Thank you for that.” _

_ Xenos eyes grew into large, round and dark orbs. “What...what did you do?” _

“ _ Nothing." the sylvari smiled as the Nightmare Courtiers began to surround them – him and his friends – offering no chance to escape. There was a low, dark chuckle and the crackle of a whip and the sylvari's smile widened. “Yet.” _

He stomped off into the night, leaving a track of gold droplets on the ground without a care. He'd found however far he fled – memories always... _ always  _ caught up.

  
  



	17. Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day! This story is progressing as well and before dust collects I'll show you what I've done with it. It's not much, granted, but it's something, right?. *expectant smile*

There was a knock on Laranthir's door and he lifted his gaze. “Enter." he said and a Crusader peeked through the slightly opened door.

“There is a family here to see you, Warmaster. They say they have an appointment.”

Laranthir had wondered how this talk would go – especially since he had no actual idea what the girl had seen. Xenos had not told him all that was relevant now, but it was not the mercenaries' fault. It was his own. He'd not had the foresight to be more controlled, and now it was only going to be a price he needed to pay for cracking for even just a moment.

“Let them in." Laranthir murmured and the family entered. He rose to his feet and quickly adjusted the three chairs he'd arranged beforehand. “I am glad you could come." Laranthir smiled. “Please, have a seat.”

The woman sat down and pulled the chair with her daughter closer to her, wrapping one arms protectively around her shoulder. “We...we wanted to thank you once again." the woman began. “We don't know how to repay you for your kindness, Warmaster.”

“There is no need." Laranthir smiled. “I imagine you have questions.”

“Our daughter..." the man began and cast the girl a glance. “You refused to tell us where she was found, before.”

“That..." Laranthir began, wondering how best to go about this. “It was-”

The door opened, there was a loud pair of running footsteps and a cry, “Hey, you can't just-” and the family as well as Laranthir turned to look at the door where Xenos stood, striding into the office as if he owned it. The crusader behind him made a grab for his arm and held on tight and gave Laranthir an apologetic glance. “I am so sorry, Warmaster, he just-”

“No, it's fine." Laranthir murmured and couldn't remember moving to his feet. He was standing once again, his eyes fixed on Xenos. The warrior looked grim and determined, the fact that he had not slept evident by the dark lines under his eyes.

The Crusader reluctantly released Xenos arm and bowed his head before leaving the room and closing the door in the process. There were many questions that came into Laranthir's head.

_Have you decided? What have you decided to do? Will you be an enemy, or an ally?_

The moment of awkward silence was suddenly disrupted when Sally cried “Red-leaf!” and the mother hushed her.

“Don't call him that." she scolded. “That is very rude.”

“It's fine." Xenos replied gruffly and moved toward Laranthir's table, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the desk. “What I have to say is not for young ears.”

“Ah." the mother made and gave her husband an uncertain glance. “Then I'll...wait outside with her.”

Once the door closed the husband threw Xenos a frowning glance. “What is this about?”

Xenos didn't even glance at Laranthir the whole time. He told the father of how he'd tracked her to the Bandit hideout, how he'd revealed that she'd been captured by krait, and where he and Boerrn had found her in the end. That he could only assume the kind of treatment she'd received and the things she had seen.

The father listened and seemed steady in his seat, if a little pale. When Xenos finished, the father dropped his gaze and took a deep breath. “Maker." he murmured and brought a hand through dark hair. “What do you suggest we do?”

It was Laranthir's turn to take over. “Take her fears seriously. I imagine closeness will help her alleviate the fear she's felt when she was alone; I imagine her nightmares will be great and many. There are a few herbal concoctions your can try to ease them, and in the end she will have to relive even those terrible events. I have heard that human children express many experiences through drawings.”

The father nodded slowly. “She's been...quiet. And clingy.”

“I know this is easier said that done, but attempt to find an activity she enjoys. Perhaps other children who will play with her to distract her.”

“Thank you." the father said again and slowly rose. He looked overwhelmed still and as he made his exit Laranthir and Xenos waited in the silence, but quite unsure what to say.

It was Laranthir who began. “You came back." he said slowly and looked sideways at Xenos who still leaned against the table, one leg drawn over the other and arms crossed in front of his chest. The yellows eyes seemed to glare at the door and look anywhere but at Laranthir. “I have to apologize. What I said was unprofessional and hurtful. It was not my place to assume to know anything about your motivations.”

Xenos did not answer. Instead he pushed himself from the table and walked toward the memo-board and let his gaze wander, and without another word he tore another task from it before folding it and stowing it in his pouch. When he made for the door Laranthir wondered if he should stop him, but Xenos stopped all on his own and turned to finally look at Laranthir.

“I am not your enemy." Xenos said, eyes more serious and steady than Laranthir had ever seen them. “If you must know one thing, it's that.”

With that Xenos left, leaving Laranthir to sort through his confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *long, relaxed sigh* Who doesn't like character changes? Who doesn't like the moment when a character barges head first into a wall only to recoil, shake their head and stare in confusion, only to realize they've been ignoring a so very small but yet important detail of themselves?  
> Let's see where this transformation goes, shall we? :3  
> See you in the next one!


	18. Between the lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's nice to see you here! :3  
> This is a great amount of drabbles because I wanted to have a go at them and I am really, really glad I did, and also satisfied with the result. There will be instances where there will be long chapters again, but I'll keep on experimenting with alternating long chapters and drabbles to keep it interesting. I hope you're as excited as I am!

Xenos didn't talk much. He just sat there, glaring at the campfire they'd set up on their journey. This was one of the tasks Xenos had torn from the memo-board, and Boerrn had tagged along because, well, why the heck not, and mostly because Laranthir paid well.

That was _his_ , motivation, anyhow, but the distracted, forlorn quiet and the empty glaze of Xenos eyes into the fire was getting somewhat...well, annoying.

“You OK?" Boerrn asked.

“Mh." Xenos made, his fingers curling around the blade of his greatsword.

Boerrn didn't dare mention the golden sap dripping onto the grass.

  
  


The door opened roughly, just short of banging against the wall, and Xenos marched in, slapped a piece of parchment on the table, gripped the envelope with coin, walked over to the memo-board and without even glancing grabbed one of the papers, ripped it free and left the office without even  _once_ looking at Laranthir.

The secondborn stared at the door after it had slammed shut, the pen in his hand halted over the letter he was formulating. It was the third time this day that Xenos had come by, and Laranthir was not sure to be happy or worried.

  
  


The memos atop the board lessened considerably in the following days. It was both astounding and somewhat frightening with what kind of  _efficiency_ Xenos worked. It was akin to a madness, especially underlined by the dark set of grim eyes that never once seemed to look directly at him. Laranthir wondered what kind of emotion he'd rattled awake, to what kind of extend he'd pushed him. It had not been his intention, not even close, and that fact made him ponder about what he should do.

It was then that he set it in his mind to talk to Xenos.

  
  


“OK. I've had enough." Boerrn grumped. “Talk.”

Xenos looked up. “Talk?”

“Whatever the fuck is on your head, get it out.”

“Don't you ever get tired?" Xenos asked timidly, and Boerrn frowned.

“Of what?”

“This. Being mercenaries. We've cared for nothing but gold. It's..." Xenos swallowed, words trailing off.

“It's always been shallow. Difference is, you've never minded before." Boerrn replied. “You let him get into your head, didn't you.”

“It's not that.”

“ _Spirits_ , Xen. You _know_ I know you better than that.”

Xenos sighed and dropped his gaze. Boern was right.

  
  


When Xenos ripped the next memo from the board Laranthir was asleep at his desk, arms folded underneath his head. He halted for a moment and regarded the secondborns' sleeping form.

Seeing Laranthir asleep was as rare as seeing him generally resting – such as interaction or recreational activity. The secondborn was always engaged in some task, engrossed and focussed entirely on the one thing he'd determined was worth dedicating his life to.

Xenos wondered when he'd stopped wanting to do the very same. When he'd stopped caring for others and the world.

_It is harder to walk away then._

  
  


_They fought bitterly. The Nightmare Court had them surrounded, darkness and curling poisoned vines encumbering and trapping them all in place. Vhela had already fallen, Gorlenir was fighting with bared teeth, and Anfri gave a loud wail when a thorned whip curled around her throat and pulled her from her feet._

_They'd come with him to rescue the sylvari. They'd followed him and it was his fault. His fault they would be captured, his fault they would get tortured or killed._

_He roared in frustration and felt the pattern pulsing like a furious flare before he could only see red._

  
  


“Xen." a voice broke him free and he blinked up, body bathed in sweat and blinked up at Boerrn. The norn was frowning. “Bad dream?”

Xenos sat up and stared at his hands and fingers. For a few moments he was not sure why they were shacking. It was only a dream. The _real_ memory was worse than any nightmare he'd ever had.

“I need a drink." Xenos murmured and stood.

Boerrn followed without a word. It was only fair that it had begun at a bar – and that he'd drown the memory to the very end.

  
  


He was drunk to the point where the ground seemed to be the sea, wave after wave making his feet unsteady. It was only natural that the woman made very little sense. “Boerrn and Xenos." she said again, voice sharp, but Xenos only swayed a little and took another swig from his cup before the woman tore it from him.

“Rude." he slurred and made a grab for it, but it was not in reach.

“Boerrn and Xenos." she said again, and only now Xenos noticed the other Lionguard behind her. “You are hereby under arrest for desertion.”

  
  


“Boerrn." Xenos groaned. “I swear by the Pale Tree I will _murder_ you if you do not stop.”

Clack. Clack. _Clack._

“Boerrn!”

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Xenos cursed and held his hands over his ears, but the stone made the very same sound still. It was infuriating that the cell had so little to offer in terms of recreational activity, especially that he couldn't outrun Boerrn's stupid stone-throwing game.

He had a hangover, his body ached and a headache. Not to mention the threat of execution hanging over their heads.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Xenos groaned exasperatedly, accepting his misery.

  
  


  
  


There were no new finished tasks upon Laranthir's desk that day. It worried him more than it should. He was going over a list of new prisoners when his gaze halted.

“Is this accurate?" he asked the Crusader in front of him and the man nodded.

“The list was renewed this morning.”

Laranthir groaned and settled his pen down. “I'll deal with this. You are excused.”

“Yes, sir." he bowed.

Laranthir grabbed a new parchment and began to formulate the letter to the Lionguard, asking kindly to see him concerning the matter of the two captured mercenaries.

  
  


It was not unusual for a pair of feet to echo through the prison. What was unusual however was that the figure remained rooted in front of their cell door, and Xenos craned his neck to see who it was. For a moment it was hard to decipher – he was lying upside down, legs splayed up and over the make-shift bed – before he recognized the stern and yet kind eyes of Laranthir.

“I am here to bail you out." Laranthir smiled and raised a key.

“Thanks, love." Xenos grinned and ignored the roll of Laranthir's eyes.

  
  


“Things are happening rapidly. The evidence we have gathered points in the direction that Scarlet will attack Lion's Arch, and we need to prepare for that eventuality. I need you to make sure that everything is in superb condition and that the key points are set and ready.”

“An attack?" Boerrn asked.

“An invasion." Laranthir corrected grimly. “I am afraid we have very little time – it might come at any moment. Let me walk through the process quick and then you'll be on your way.”

“Where do you need us?" Xenos asked.

Laranthir smiled.

  
  


Xenos stared at the horizon. It was the calm before the storm, he could feel it. There was a static and tingling in the air, a soft brush of wind with the scent of metal, fire and smoke. “They will be here soon." Laranthir murmured beside him. “We must be ready.”

“I wonder..." Xenos trailed off, eyes glued to the distance. “If you die, will you die a virgin?”

“I'll make an effort not to die." Laranthir answered with a roll of his eyes.

“See that you do." Xenos answered. Laranthir ignored the tingle in his fingertips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you like it? The name of the chapter is obviously because so much can happen between the lines we sometimes miss it, and that's especially the case with drabbles. (Unless you go into alot of detail, and I am only starting to explore this, so bear with me!)
> 
> There will be alot of development and going back and forth, especially concerning Xenos. The poor guy will have his head turned around on his shoulders and won't know which way to turn to until I'm done with him - sometimes I have nothing left but to feel sorry for them.
> 
> Since I have been asked before I am going to explain on thing real quick before confusion sets in: The sylvari that Xenos remembered is Derwen, like some of you have already thought might be the case. As to how and why and what the **** Seruna - I'll get into that once we progress on "The Living World". There will be a whole chapter dedicated to Derwen's persona and his whole backstory - I've got you guys, no worries! All that you have to do is be patient. MUahaha.
> 
> Next up: Battle of Lion's Arch. It's going to be full of fights, flying missiles, explosions and some T{not so much L}C and some moments that had me all fluttery. Writing this is by far not easy and I have t o rewrite chapters completely sometimes, so let me know if something feels off or if the character doesn't seem right. Be honest with me!
> 
> Alright, enough babbling. Love you guys, and see you in the next one!


	19. The Battle of Lion's Arch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet attacks and destroys Lion's Arch and Xenos and Laranthir are caught right in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day everyone!  
> This might surprise you, but I need to upload his. I am already behind on this story as it is, and if I want it to converge with the Living World (Which will be soon) I have to update this. I am sure you don't mind :3

Somewhere close by a house was blasted into splinters and stone scattered into the air, shrieks and cries ringing through the air, the mob of refugees and citizens even more frantic than before. People lay buried underneath the debris, children cried and mothers wailed loudly, adding to the clamour of despair and chaos.

Xenos turned around and saw through the thick trail of dust and dirt that a woman was tearing her hands open to pull away debris of a house, her cries loud and shrill, almost deafening over all the others. From beneath the pile Xenos saw tuft of hair and an outstretched arm and his stomach twisted and for a moment he hesitated before he turned on his heel and dashed back to her.

With a quick movement he pulled the stone from what must be her lover, her husband or perhaps a brother, like this Xenos could not tell, and she didn't even seem to see him. She just fell forward onto her knees and pulled the man into her arms, but his body was limp and unresponsive, and when she turned him in her lap the man's head fell back and wide, glassy eyes stared up into Xenos face, blood covering the man's features.

The stone fell somewhere to the ground beside Xenos and his insides twisted at the wailed cry the woman gave and he summoned all he had to ignore the pang of guilt and regret rising like a bile in his throat. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up onto her feet and she _fought_ him, she punched him and kicked him and _bit_ into his arm, demanding to be left with her husband, but Xenos dragged her relentlessly until he saw a Lionguard. With a motion of his arm he shoved her toward the man and the Lionguard caught the woman with a surprised expression, looking up at Xenos disbelievingly, but the warrior had already turned away.

This...it was so much worse than he had thought. To see all these people fleeing in terror, to see them have their lives destroyed...

It was different, saying he didn't care and actually doing so. He found himself betrayed by his body and tried to steel himself against the dead he saw among the havoc, the debris and ruins, tried to steel himself against those that were held up or carried by a helping hand and moved only because of that – but he couldn't.

By the Pale Tree, he couldn't. He couldn't help but pull the man who stumbled to his knees to his feet, he couldn't help but carry the child as it walked the streets astray, he _couldn't help but_ unsheathe his blade and protect them as they fled from the suddenly appearing Aetherblade as they blinked into existence from bulbs of buzzing lightning. His greatsword swung around wildly against all attackers, the masses slowly dwindling and disappearing behind him toward the gate and the reinforced quarters the Lionguard had set up.

A krait rose from the water in lithe, weaving lines and eyes as green as venom, its spears covered in algae and corals from the prolonged time underwater.

Before it could raise its arm completely for a strike his sword easily pushed through the body as if it were made from butter, separating the body in two parts. The spear clattered toward the floor, dark blood seeping onto the dusted ground, mixing with the splatters of soot and red.

A large shadow fell over him and he craned his neck and saw one of the airships hovering over him, and around him was the buzz of electricity and from thin air appeared what Xenos imagined were _not_ reinforcements.

“Back!" he roared and the few refugees that had remained scattered into the streets somewhere behind him, disappearing completely from sight.

The figures wore leather and armour with similarities to magitech and asuran design, weapons buzzing uncomfortably with electricity and static. One of them snapped a whip close to him and he lunged sideways, grasped his greatsword and brought it from over his shoulder down in a diagonal line through the man's body.

They swarmed on him, six of them, crowding him where he stood alone. A large charr swung an axe his way and he blocked it, kicked out toward the charr and in the moment of imbalance impaled the charr atop the tip of his blade with one quick, successive strike that even a weapon master would have had trouble to block efficiently.

Before the charr had fallen he took the axe from the charr's grip with one hand and whirled around and launched it, throwing it with it's blade first into the chest of a human female that held a fragile looking rapier in her hand. Her eyes grew comically wide and she made a strangled noise before she stilled and succumbed to her knees and fell forward, blood splattering atop the pavement.

A large norn swung a mace his way and Xenos ducked beneath and brought his greatsword around in an arc, giving a cry as he spun it back around. The blade hit the norn's breastplate with a loud clanking noise and bentd it considerably, the norn pushed back by the collision.

The impact made the large greatsword recoil and change trajectory, and Xenos swung it around once more with the momentum it gathered, lunged forward and vaulted into the air with a powerful jump, turning in the air as he leaped toward his target.

The Charr grenadier was caught completely off-guard by his sudden lunge and did not manage to jump back far enough to dodge his cleaving strike, cutting his torso in half. The resistance of muscle, tendons and bone was barely palpable as the blade cut through, and Xenos turned to assess the last remaining enemies.

The norn was succumbing to his knees, the dent in his plate armour restricting his ability to move and breathe, and the last one that remained was another female with a rapier that came charging toward Xenos with a raging cry.

He swung the blade once and slapped the blade from her fingers at the force, snapping the rapier in two in the process, and his second swing brought an end to her misery as he cut her from her flank up forward her shoulder. She sputtered, staring disbelievingly and as she fell, Xenos shook his head.

“Who brings a rapier to a sword fight?" he asked and kicked the rapier pieces with the tip of his boot. Then he made his way toward the signal tower, but before he was even close enough to see if it had been lit or not a familiar figure came running toward him.

“Boerrn!" Xenos called and the norn was clasping his axe tightly, sweat forming on his forehead. There were spatters of blood covering the front of his armour and there was a large dent on his wristguard, but other than that the norn looked unscathed.

“Ah, Xen." Boerrn grinned and came to a halt, boots screeching on the ground in protest. “Thought they got you. What took you so long?”

“Eh." Xenos made and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Some of those weird guys attacked me.”

“Yeah, me too. Heard someone call them Aetherblades, so there's that.”

“Come on." Xenos beckoned him. “Let's head to the plaza.”

Boerrn nodded grimly, jogging beside him. Xenos glanced over to where the Fort was and noticed with a sudden jolt that brought him to a standstill that it was in complete ruins. The airstrikes were still raining and ringing around them, closer to the city center now, but somehow that didn't really matter.

“Have you seen Laranthir?" he asked urgently and Boerrn barely managed to come to a halt before barrelling right into him.

“Who? Ah, no, I haven't.” Boerrn frowned. “Don't tell me you're- Oh, come on!”

Xenos was already running, dragging his greatsword by the side of his body up the slope toward the ruins of the Fort. A large cloud of dust settled into the air, breaking the light into small streaks that filtered through. There were sounds of fighting here as well as the sound of dying men, and Xenos jumped atop a fallen column and from his heightened position he saw Aetherblade, Krait and Nightmare Court, all fighting with the remaining survivors of the fort.

There was only a small group of refugees from the camp down by the beach, and Xenos recognized the mother and the child Sally as they scampered into the further back to avoid any of the Aetherblade forces as they were cornered against the side of the hill.

With a loud cry he vaulted from the column and raised the greatsword over his head, slicing down as he landed. The most unfortunate norn was an easy target and even the heavily plated armour did not save him when the greatsword lodged itself into the helmet and through the skull.

Under the weight and the force the norn succumbed immediately and Xenos pulled his greatsword free with a squishy sound, charging forward. He swung the blade into the air and lifted it, striking at a male aetherblade who attempted to block the blow and was shoved sideways. Relentlessly Xenos turned and brought the greatsword around, hitting the human once more and this time breaking through the defense.

“Rally to me!" a voice roared and Xenos whirled around and lifted his head. From between the ruins where the entrance to the fort had been stood Laranthir, a sword and shield raised in his hands, a bow strapped over the back of his shoulder with no arrows remaining in the quiver. The secondborn looked determined and grim as if he was ready to take on all of Scarlet's forces, and the remaining Vigil and Pact members rallied at his position at his cry. “We must retreat!" Laranthir roared and beckoned them to follow. “To the city!”

Laranthir lead them forward and blocked an axe aimed for his neck with ease, deflecting the blow and managing to strike his attacker down before any of the others had moved to assist him. Laranthir was pulling his sword free when suddenly a voice reverberated shrilly,

“They've destroyed the asura gates! The Krait are overwhelming the forces at the beaches and the Commander is holding them back as best he can at the plaza!" a woman scout from atop the the pile debris cried. Cuts covered her arms and face, forming red, jagged lines. Her blonde hair was dishevelled and sticking to her forehead, but she looked no less determined.

“We must hold out!" Laranthir roared sternly and lifted his shield against a volley of splintered rocks that scattered when a nearby explosion rippled through the ground. “The refugees must escape the city!”

There was a loud buzzing noise right atop their heads and a shadow fell over them. Xenos craned his neck as he ran toward where Laranthir stood and saw an aetherblade airship hover over them and the air filled with the now almost familiar sound of static and a missile hit the group right in the middle, screams carrying through the air.

Xenos was blasted back and had the mind to hold onto his greatsword, his back hitting part of a pile of stone and his head snapped back, a sharp white pain going through his body at the impact. Dazed and disoriented he groaned, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword before he leaned forward and rose onto his feet.

A few meters ahead where the group of Vigil and Pact had been was nothing but a crater that opened far beneath the fundament of the stone, offering view of the earth beneath. Bodies lay scattered over the sides and Xenos realized that he'd been one of the lucky ones. He stumbled to his feet and rushed toward a Vigil Crusader whose arm was crushed beneath a large piece of stone and managed to do so barely and lift the soldier to his feet. The Crusader was hissing and cursing, holding back tears.

A few more groans around them announced Xenos and the Crusader were not alone, but the buzzing in the air turned into a loud humming noise and the sizzle of electricity announced the arrival of the aetherblades.

This time, Xenos was ready. He left the Crusader where he'd found him and charged forward to where a ball of electricity appeared and cut into the not quite yet materialized figure. The man was cut in half before he could even properly react and with another twist and turn Xenos jumped, swinging his greatsword wildly.

A norn smacked his mace against Xenos' back and he stumbled and _growled,_ turning around with a flurry of strikes. He slashes at the norn, pushing him further and further back under the flurry of his attacks, his greatsword so fast and vicious it looked like he was wielding a hundred blades instead of one, and with a last frustrated roar he brought the blade up into the air, jumped and sliced down.

The norn's armour was bent and dent, the blade scrapping over the norn's helmet and siding down toward the crook of his neck where it plunged into flesh, cutting deep into the collarbone. With a pull Xenos freed his blade from the confinements of flesh and whirled around, adrenaline pumping through him. He felt hot, buzzing, _alive,_ and he was almost mad with bloodlust and rage when he charged against his next opponents even though they outnumbered him greatly.

He swung his blade like a mad berserker, each strike tearing a cry of war and wrath from his throat, and the enemies succumbed to his strikes when they could do nothing to block them. No shield was sturdy enough, no armour hardened enough, no blade strong enough to withstand the force behind his assault.

The Aetherblade cut at him, lightning whips sizzling around his arms and slapping against his chest and arms, but each strike only enraged him more to the point where he only saw red. The pain faded into the thrum of adrenaline, his body pushing onward, greatsword swinging with the power of an entire army.

His head whirled around when he heard someone cry out and felt the sting of something sharp pierce into his back, and without caring to lodge the blade free he whirled around and brought the greatsword to collide with an aetherblade body that was pushed to the side and onto the ground when the blade met armour instead of skin. The man had pierced him with a rapier, the blade still sticking out from Xenos' back when Xenos bowed down, gripped the man's neck with his free hand and lifted him easily into the air, body and armour and all, and _glared_ at the man as if the human was the most deceitful and vicious creature Xenos had ever seen.

The moment of fear and terror that glinted in the man's eyes was only brief and Xenos flexed his fingers, crushing the airpipe and neck under his hold as easily as one might break a branch. The man's body turned flaccid and limp, and with a side-way motion Xenos tossed the body aside before he pulled the rapier free from his back with a loud clatter.

There was a clanking sound and a scream behind him and Xenos turned around. A norn was crowding down on Sally's mother, the woman shielding away her daughter in the cage of her arms. When the norn raised his mace and slammed it down Laranthir jumped in between, his shield raised high over his head and was brought down to his knees with a grunt.

Xenos charged over to him, boots slapping furiously on the ground, jumping and vaulting over the debris, but he was not fast enough. He had to watch as the norn swung the mace horizontally into Laranthir's side, sending the secondborn tumbling over to the side where he landed with a low groan on the ground.

The norn pulled his arm back, struck back with his mace and Xenos finally reached, the tip of his greatsword sinking into the norn's back. There was a sputtering noise, the sound of something _cracking_ and a whimper from somewhere below. Xenos gripped the norn's back plating and pulled his sword free, letting the body drop backwards toward the ground.

Sally lay curled on the ground and her mother -

Xenos knelt down, obstructing the corpse from Sally's view when the girl lifted her eyes with tears in her eyes. “Mom?" she asked. “Mom? Where's mom?”

Xenos couldn't answer. He lifted her into his arms, careful to obstruct her view still and pressed her head closely into his chest after he sheathed his greatsword on his back. His entire body was still pulsing from his Berserker State, eyes glowing like liquid ruby's, a red sheen flowing over the pattern on his bark. “I've got you now." Xenos said as soothingly as he could, his body felt as if it was burning, active, _focussed_ on the next fight, ready to take on anyone and anything. Just not...this. “You're safe now.”

Laranthir groaned once again and propped his hands onto the ground in an attempt to push himself onto his feet, and Xenos pulled the secondborn up with his one free hand, nearly vaulting him into a standing position. The secondborn swayed for a moment, a little dazed before he took a deep breath. “Thank you." he murmured. “The others-”

“We are all that's left." Xenos told him, and Laranthir let his eyes wander over the fort. Everything, the buildings, the walls, the prison...all of it was in complete and utter ruin, dilapidated beyond recognition. The Pact members and Vigil lay scattered throughout, some bodies visible in the open field, others lying dead beneath cascades of stone.

“We must move." Laranthir said, voice awfully stiff, and Xenos gripped Laranthir's arm tighter, never having let go.

“Are you-" he began, but Laranthir shook his head.

“Not now, Xenos." the secondborn said tersely, but the supplication was evident. Laranthir's eyes wandered over the remainder of Xenos' pulsing red pattern, but he didn't seem to comprehend what the state actually was, thoughts drifting and entirely too far gone. “Not...not now.”

Xenos nodded in understanding. “The Plaza." Xenos said instead and gave Laranthir's arm a tug, and the secondborn looked up at him gratefully, the melancholy hidden behind a mask of determination. It took Xenos a moment to see through it, to see the rue and the sadness in Laranthir's features of having lost his men and that so many refugees had died – but the words of _“It is not your fault, you did all you could.”_ died long before they were spoken – because even though Xenos believed them, Laranthir wouldn't.

“The plaza." Laranthir agreed and allowed Xenos to pull him forward a step before he gently but firmly removed his arm from Xenos grasp – and Xenos allowed it. He could have held on easily, but he couldn't stand to see Laranthir in a state such as this. He didn't want to be the one to cause more frustration.

“Take her." Xenos said and reached Sally out toward Laranthir as they walked. “I'll protect you.”

Laranthir stretched out his hands and took her under her arms and cradled her against his chest. “It's going to be OK." Laranthir whispered and stroked over the girl's head, gently tugging her hair back. “You're safe now.”

“Where's mom?" Sally asked again.

“She went ahead." Laranthir answered levelly, but Xenos heard the strain. He knew the secondborn would not specify where “ahead” was.

“But why?" Sally asked.

“Sometimes, people just...do." Laranthir murmured, and the _pain_ in that voice felt as if someone stabbed Xenos through the chest.

They way toward the plaza was almost quiet. Almost. It was only one group of Aetherblades and Xenos cut through them quickly, sustaining only a sharp burn atop his arm where the bark singed in a pattern of forked, dark lightning. When he pulled his greatsword from the last corpse the pulse around his arms had returned and he saw Laranthir stepping closer carefully, shoulders pulled taunt in apprehension and anticipation. “Are you alright?" Laranthir asked, eyeing him over.

“It's just a scratch." Xenos replied, not even bothering to sheathe his greatsword again.

“No, I mean the...” Xenos turned back toward Laranthir with a raised eyebrow and noticed that the secondborn was pointing at the pulsing pattern, the glow of red emitting from him.

“So long as I keep control." Xenos answered evenly.

Laranthir heard the undertone of a bitter box of memories and didn't press any further. Xenos was grateful for that – this was neither the time nor the place for any such revelations, not that there ever would be such a constellation.

When they reached the Plaza the Lionguard and Vigil recognized Laranthir immediately, and Xenos offered to take Sally again. She'd grown quiet – too quiet, and Xenos could only imagine why. She must have seen so many great terrible things at such a young age, and to lose her mother now, possibly her father...being alive was good. But only time would tell if Sally would come to see that, too.

“Warmaster, thank the Pale Tree!" a sylvari Crusader said. “We've managed to hold the perimeter, but something is rising to the South, some sort of Miasma.”

Laranthir and Xenos lifted their gazes toward the dark veil of green that rose over the sea and buildings, slowly enveloping the whole city.

“We must evacuate." Laranthir ordered promptly, falling back into his pattern of warmaster as easily as turning on a switch. “Gather the remaining forces and bring them to retreat at the gates. The refugees flee first and the Lionguard and Vigil will be the rear.”

“Yes sir." the Crusader said and dashed off, relaying Laranthir's orders.

“You should head to the Vigil Keep." Laranthir said and at first Xenos did not notice that the secondborn was talking to him until he realized there was nobody else Laranthir could speak to. Everyone else was rushing and running around, and they were the only two standing almost still, just dodging the occasional person that nearly bumped into them in their eagerness.

“I'm staying." Xenos said stead-fast, and Laranthir gave him a look with his dark eyes. In the dim that was thrown over them by the cloud of miasma that blocked out the sunlight like a filter the soft purple of Laranthir's glow began to show.

“I'm ordering you to head back to the Vigil Keep." Laranthir said firmly, eyebrows furrowing as if challenging him, and _By the Pale Tree_ , he looked fierce and determined, and it made Xenos angry.

“I am not Vigil or Pact." Xenos said and took a daring step closer, eyes baring down on Laranthir. “ _Make_ me.”

“You have to get Sally to safe-”

“TAKE COVER!" a voice cried and the _swish_ of the missile above their head was sharp and cutting through the air. Xenos charged forward into Laranthir without even a second thought barrelling into the secondborn with his body, his free arm stretching to reach around Laranthir's mid and pulling him to the ground.

There was a loud explosion and loud screams rippled through the air in unision, pieces of stone scattered sharply to the sides and splayed over the ground and pavement. Xenos pulled Sally closer to his chest and covered Laranthir's body with his own as best as he could, pieces of debris slamming into his back with great enough force to jolt through him. When the barrage finally ceased Xenos let out a huff and lifted his head, staring down at Laranthir who was looking at him with both perplexity and wonder.

“Xenos-" Laranthir began, but Xenos interjected,

“I'm fine." he said brusquely.

“You're..." Laranthir lifted his hand toward Xenos face and the warrior stilled, too startled to move or even twitch when Laranthir's thumb caressed over his eyebrow, brushing away sap as it flowed thickly from a wound on his forehead. “You need to see a medic.”

“I need you to stop fussing." Xenos answered instead, unaccustomed to the flutter in his stomach that spread warmly and evenly, slowly rising higher in his chest and spreading in his fingertips, so he covered it up with annoyance instead. He knew how to be annoyed, but flustered? Not so much.

He got up, lifting his upper body and then lifting himself to his feet, pulling at Laranthir's arm and ignoring entirely that he could feel every part of Laranthir's pattern under his fingertips, ignored that he wanted to hold on.

Laranthir let himself be pulled to his feet and then gazed around toward the Miasma once again. “It's spreading faster now." he murmured and turned to look toward the masses at the gates, refugees and citizens all squeezing through only slowly. Laranthir moved and Xenos fingers uncurled from where they had rested around his arm, and the secondborn announced in a loud voice that echoed over the debris field, “Push the forces back! Stand your ground!”

There were some answering calls and cheers from the Lionguard and Vigil and Xenos followed Laranthir through the masses as the secondborn yelled out orders and commands, pointing in the directions the groups were headed. It looked... _easy_. Natural even, and all-throughout, Xenos held on to Sally tightly and watched the sky warily for another strike, watched the dark corners of the ruins that Lion's Arch had become, ready to face anything that would jump out of the shadows.

But there were no more fights to be had. Not for Xenos, at least. Those that stood their ground at the front to push back Scarlet's forces never returned from the veil of Miasma again – and when the Miasma finally reached the gates as well it was only Lionguard and the Vigil that remained to form the rear. In the mist there was no sign of either good or evil – there was only the thick green clouds that lifted and settled over the city, making it a town of death and ghosts.

“Laranthir." Xenos supplicated when the secondborn stared into the Miasma behind him, eyes searching, waiting... “Laranthir, come on.”

“Just a moment longer." Laranthir insisted.

“They are not coming." Xenos said, more sharply this time, and he reached out to grab Laranthir's wrist to pull, and Laranthir resisted.

“Just _one moment_ , Xenos!" Laranthir said sharply and firmly. “Just-”

Xenos was about to answer – to yell at Laranthir or even lift him from his feet and throw him over his shoulder to carry him out if he had to, but his mouth remained agape and open when a figure appeared in the dark green veil, slowly stumbling toward them. Xenos pushed Laranthir back harshly with his arm and pulled his greatsword free, eyes squinting into the miasma to see if it was ally or foe when the silhouette _moved_ , contours dancing in the dim.

Another few steps and Laranthir gasped. “Commander!”

The figure stepped closer and Xenos finally saw _why_ the silhouette seemed to move. It was a figure shrouded in shadow, purple, gleaming eyes greeting from the darkness inside. The figure carried a body in its arms that was unmoving and limp.

“Laranthir." the figure greeted and Xenos felt a shiver run over his bark at the sudden _cold_ that emitted around him. It took a moment to comprehend who the person was and what it _meant_ , but when it did, Xenos couldn't help but feel...more wary than before.

“I'm glad you're alright." Laranthir said blandly and coughed. For Xenos too the miasma was becoming difficult to breathe, scratching along his neck like a bad whiskey.

“Let's not dwell." the Commander said and gestured with his chin toward the gate, and this time Laranthir moved. It made Xenos somewhat angry _“Why is he listening to him, and not me?”_ , but he pushed it down.

“Who is this?" Laranthir asked and gestured toward the figure in the Commander's arms.

“An idiot." the Commander replied and Xenos snorted and gave Laranthir a glance.

“I know the type." he grumbled in answer, but the Commander didn't seem to hear and Laranthir gave him only a curt reprimanding stare.

“How's the situation?" the Commander asked instead, and when the Shroud lifted it revealed a dark-skinned sylvari with angled half-bamboo as hair and purple eyes.

“We've lost many in the first strikes of the assault, and even more during the last phase of escape. We have accounted most refugees and I've been told reports from the various other camps are coming in as well. I am sure we will know more once we reach the Vigil Keep.”

“I sent Trahearne a letter. I'm sure he'll be at the Keep waiting for us." the Commander said, and even Xenos knew the name. Trahearne was as legendary as a sylvari could become – the first to awaken, the first of the first, a necromancer without equal, and not to mention the Leader and Pact Marshal of the Pact.

“I am confident the city can be taken back." Laranthir said. “The Miasma is a point which worries me, however.”

“We will address all of this at the keep. A moment.” The commander was steering to the side away from them, walking toward a large norn man who looked weary and tired, a female charr at his side. Words were exchanged only briefly and the norn took the unconscious sylvari the Commander had carried from his arms and lifted him onto his back carefully before the Commander returned to them. “Come on." the Commander then said and gestured for them both to follow, the purple eyes resting on Xenos for the first time, if only briefly. “Who are you?" the Commander asked.

“I'm Laranthir's crony." Xenos grinned.

“He's a mercenary." Laranthir quickly corrected. “He's helped to hold the city for as long as possible.”

The Commander's eyes were piercing. “For some, coin is enough." he said, but he said it as if it was an insult that was spat in Xenos face, and the warrior narrowed his eyes.

“Some like a direct message.”

“Your coin serves no purpose but your own. _Real_ purpose has no need for such trivialities." the Commander said sharply. Xenos had not expected the sylvari to even respond once again, and the anger rose beneath his skin. “But rest assured that we will compensate you well for your services.”

“I have no need for golden promises." Xenos snapped. “I didn't stay for the coin.”

The ensuing silence trapped him in his own words and they hung in the air, hovering there and he wished he could take them and swallow them back down because he could not take the look of surprise Laranthir threw him.

The Commander's mouth twitched, but showed otherwise no sign of his smug little victory won by trickery. Xenos cursed himself inwardly. “I'm glad to hear it." the Commander chimed, even though he didn't sound pleased at all.

“By bear's breath, what happened to you?" Boerrn asked when Xenos finally stumbled up the stairs of the Vigil Keep, head fuming and anger rising like a bile up his throat. His eyes snapped toward where the norn stood and gave the Commander and Laranthir a brief glance, and to his annoyance and surprise they waited, conversing quietly.

“Eh." Xenos made and shrugged, feeling too tired to explore what it was that made him angry. “Got into a fight.”

“Didn't we all." Boerrn replied dryly. Now that Xenos lifted his gaze he saw that the norn was not unscathed either. Parts of the leather was torn, and the armour was dirtied and bent at places.

“Boerrn." Laranthir greeted when finally the Commander went on ahead and the seocndborn stepped clsoer. “It is good to see you are well.”

“Same for you." Boerrn said blandly and cast the secondborn a questioning glance. “So, what now?”

“I will have to speak with the Pact Marshal and the Commander." Laranthir murmured and he sounded tired. “We have lost Lion's Arch, but we haven't lost this fight.”

“I like the spirit." Boerrn grinned. “Let me know if we can help.”

“You could take her." Xenos offered and held out Sally toward the large norn.

“Too important to have a kid now, are we?" Boerrn jested lightly and took the sleeping girl into his arms with ginger care. “I've got this.”

“I'm not a parent." Xenos replied sharply, but he didn't allow himself to wonder what it meant if Sally had lost both her parents and were to become an orphan. The image of a small human girl tagging along in a two-man-band of mercenaries seemed a quite unfitting environment for a child to grow up in.

He took a step to stand beside Laranthir and gave the secondborn a curt nod. “Take care, Boerrn." Laranthir said and then beckoned for Xenos to follow him. “I am sorry for the Commander – he is a very blunt and honest individual.”

“Any why are you apologizing for him?" Xenos asked brusquely.

“You've protected me. It seemed only fair I return some of the kindness." Laranthir replied. “I am not sure I would have survived the battle today were it not for your interference at fort marriner.”

“Couldn't let you die a virgin." Xenos grinned and Laranthir rolled his eyes.

“Try to remind me to _not_ be grateful towards you again.”

“I'll conveniently forget to." Xenos shrugged with a grin.

“Jokes aside, I was being serious. Thank you, Xenos.”

At that Xenos gave Laranthir a glance, grin faltering just slightly. _“I did it for you. I couldn't stand still when I thought you might be in danger. I had to look out for you. Why are you doing this to me, and why am I allowing it?”_ All that came rushing into his head in an instant and he turned his head away. “ _I should have turned away when you mentioned Scarlet"_ Xenos thought bitterly, but even though his thoughts were churning over themselves, he didn't get a single word out. Instead he remained quiet, unsure of how to take such gratitude.

When Laranthir opened the flap of the tent he held it open for him wordlessly, Xenos knew it meant more than he was able to decipher at this moment, and less than he could read into it. It was a dangerous line to tread, from too much to not enough.

The flap rustled behind him and a few faces that looked awfully familiar glanced up at them. One was Trahearne, the very first of the firstborn, and beside him was no other than the Commander of the Pact.

“Ah, Laranthir." Trahearne smiled and erected himself. “It is good to see you.”

“We could not hold the city." Laranthir murmured in dismay as he took his place by the table, and Xenos stood beside him, unsure of where else to stand. “Scarlet's forces struck more quickly than we expected.”

“Who are you?" Trahearne asked with a gesture of his chin toward where Xenos, but Laranthir replied before Xenos could.

“This is Xenos." Laranthir introduced him blandly. “He has offered to help me and has protected me in the battle of Lion's Arch.”

“It is good you have a bodyguard at your side." Trahearne acknowledged and gave Xenos a grateful nod. “Thank you for your service. Without Laranthir, I am sure we would have lost more than just a city.” Xenos only nodded back, too startled by the gratitude. He'd never even thought about what might happen if Laranthir had not been there. Now that he did...

It did not paint a pretty picture.

“We have evacuated most citizens and refugees. There is only a small percentage that is still missing and we have brave soldiers attempting to bring out anyone they can, but the miasma Scarlet spread is making it hard to enter and tread the city." Laranthir began. “She mobilized all the forces she had: The Molten and Toxic Alliance as well as the Aetherblades. Her first attack struck the portals to cut off any escape, and then her forces swarmed in from land, sea and sky. It was a well planned and full fledged invasion, but her true goal was to sett up the _Breachmaker_ over Lion's Arch.”

Trahearne nodded. “It can bee seen from here as a dark shadow hanging at the horizon over Lion's Arch. This is a dark hour indeed.” There was a short pause. “Is there any information on the miasma? So far those that have been extradited to it for a prolonged period of time have suffered severely, and most die of its effects.”

Xenos gave Laranthir a quick glance and noticed that the secondborn didn't avert his gaze or face stubbornly. Only the twitch of his eye was indication that he saw Xenos' gaze.

“There is currently too little that we know, except that which you have mention. Have the supplies arrived from Divinity's Reach? I was assured medical supplies would arrive." Laranthir continued to ask, switching the topic almost effortlessly and Trahearne nodded, clearly not minding at all.

“Divinity's Reach has been magnanimous in this crisis. Among with much needed supplies they have sent medical personal to see to those that were injured and have breathed in the Miasma, but so far there is little to nothing that can be done.”

Xenos tried listening it, but the babbling about poisons and strategies and supplies continued on and on and he spaced out at some point, too tired to focus entirely. It was what felt like an eternity later Xenos suddenly when startled he felt a hand on his arm and he looked down at Laranthir whose pattern glowed a soft lilac in the night, bringing out the pattern on his face.

He looked weary and tired, enough so that even the stern draw of his eyebrows could no longer hide it. Underneath all that however Xenos could see that Laranthir was neither mad nor angry, that instead he understood and looked sympathetic.

“ _By the Pale Tree, he is beautiful"_ Xenos caught himself thinking and blamed his drowsy mind. “ _I am glad you are alive.”_ , he tried to convey his thoughts with his eyes alone, but of course Laranthir could not hear what was not said, and somehow Xenos thought that was a good thing. How very corny would he sound to say that? He'd never said that even in the most flirtatious of situations.

“You should rest." Laranthir insisted and Xenos only frowned, the warm fingers around his arm a steadying and grounding touch on his bark.

“I'm not tired." Xenos murmured and noticed that the others had left without him even noticing, except for the soft flutter of the flap behind him. It was just him and Laranthir now in the soft glow of a few candles, and the view noises of conversations that drifted in through from outside.

“Your ability to lie is abysmal." Laranthir smiled.

“I am not putting much effort into it, granted." Xenos yielded and smiled back lazily. “Perhaps I'm just waiting to be invited to the right tent.”

“I can offer you mine." Laranthir said with a tilt of his head, and for a moment all exhaustion burned away with sudden clarity and Xenos felt wide awake.

“What?" he asked lamely, blinking down at Laranthir as if he had not heard _exactly_ what the secondborn had said.

“I will most likely not attempt to sleep tonight." Laranthir shrugged. “As warmaster there are certain privileges that I myself do not indulge in, but if you are tired-”

Xenos had misunderstood, but _thorns_ , he'd been wide awake for a moment, anxious, flabbergasted...now, he was a little disappointed. “Ah, no." Xenos quickly redeemed. “I'll only join your tent if you are in it.”

Laranthir shook his head with a smile. “How is it that you always have something quite so flirtatious to say?”

Xenos shrugged. “It's just who I am. I might ask you why you have your head always buried in your work and sleep at your desk. I just bury my-”

“Alright!" Laranthir quickly interrupted. “I think I understand, thank you.”

“Are you blushing?" Xenos teased and bowed lower and Laranthir made an exasperated sigh.

“We are sylvari. We are incapable of _blushing_.”

“I am sure there are many things that you don't know we can do." Xenos continued, grin widening, and Laranthir, to his surprise, only took a step back and lifted his hand, smiling to himself. "I could show you."

“Yes, I am sure you _could_." the secondborn emphasized. “But I would rather you did not. As you've adequately noticed, I am very busy.”

Xenos had flirted enough with Laranthir to know when a certain line had been reached, and he knew that if he tried to push any further, Laranthir might actually be annoyed. For now it was just fun and games – and he'd made Laranthir smile. It was a victory, through and through.

“I'll come with you." Xenos offered. “I'm your bodyguard, remember?”

“Don't let that get to you head." Laranthir said with a raised eyebrow, but the twitch of his mouth betrayed him. Laranthir regarded him for a moment longer before he made his way toward the tent flap and held it open for Xenos to walk though. “Alright." Laranthir finally said, and Xenos was not sure what was.

Was it alright that he tagged along? That he played bodyguard even though they'd never spoken about it? Alright that Xenos didn't even care if he was paid for this or not?

When he finally followed after Laranthir it felt...more _right_ than it ever had. As if walking after him, watching warily over the secondborn had been his place all along. It came so very naturally to watch each of his steps, to watch the swing of his arms as he walked, to glance at those around them in a assessing manner as if everyone could be a potential enemy. He'd taken escort missions before, watching caravans and women with children and other nonesense, but this...this was nothing like those times.

Back then it had been a job. He'd thought _It's almost done,_ when a kid grabbed his fingers and giggled in delight, he'd thought _It's almost done_ when the women had given him glances down the road, he'd thought _It's almost done_ whenever he'd gotten bored to death.

But now?

This was not quite the same. Xenos knew that, and even though he knew better, he refused to acknowledge it.

 _It is a job,_ he told himself. _It is only a job_.

One glance over the rampart nearly stripped him bare of the lies he told himself – and so he glued his gaze to Laranthir instead, chanting it over and over in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Did you like it? Was it too dark? I keep wanting to remind myself that the story of GW2 is full of pain and suffering and not a rollercoaster ride in the park. Do you guys have that too? Maybe I am not alone in this. :3  
> See you in the next one!


	20. Backfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I can not believe how _behind_ I am on this story, so stay tuned! There will be a bunch of chapters coming in just a few minutes, and I hope this helps you ease some of the tension you might have left from the last chapter of "The Living World: Torn From the Sky: Part 1".  
>  Ease back, relax, and let's watch these two sylvari dance around one another, shall we?

_Definition: To have the opposite result from what you initially intended._

Xenos had to admit he liked following Laranthir about. He heard many interesting things over the course of just the few days, learning that the soldiers under Laranthir's command respected the secondborn greatly and even offered Xenos, a mercenary and soldier who had taken it upon himself without being subservient to anyone to be Laranthir's bodyguard, the same amount of respect they gave the secondborn.

As if suddenly what he did was something noble and worth mentioning.

If only Xenos could lie to himself and dissuade himself from believing that such a position was not enticing and respectable. If only.

  
  


When Scarlet was killed it was too late. The  _Breachmaker_ had reached its target and even as Xenos was fighting Aetherblade and Krait at Laranthir's side, he felt the tremble of the earth beneath his feet when Lion's Arch shuddered from the stirred ley-lines beneath. 

Laranthir lifted his head, eyes staring confused toward the  _Breachmaker_ before fear crossed over his features. It was the first time Xenos saw the expression and he wanted to pull Laranthir away and ease the toiling burden that shifted in Laranthir's features, but Xenos was powerless to stop the Elder Dragon from rising from slumber.

  
  


The roar trembling throughout all Tyria could be heard by even the deaf. Xenos had joked about it before, had underestimated the kind of foe that Laranthir had mentioned was to be reckoned with. He felt like a fool, now.

“The dragon awakened." Laranthir breathed, eyes wide and staring outward toward the horizon.

“What do you know about the dragons?" Xenos asked when he sheathed his greatsword and Laranthir lowered his gaze toward the ground in dismay.

“Unless they're stopped, they'll bring our world to ruin.”

Xenos tried to ignore the shiver that travelled along his spine.

  
  


“Then we will make a forward camp in the Silverwastes." Trahearne nodded in agreement. “I will gather our forces at Fort Trinity and make the preparations.”

“What is the Camp to be called?" the Commander asked and Xenos let his eyes linger on the Necromancer.

“Do you have an idea?" Trahearne asked back, but it was Laranthir who answered.

“Camp Resolve." the secondborn interjected.

Trahearne and the Commander seemed to have no objections. “A good choice." Trahearne praised.

When they both exited Laranthir cast Xenos a glance. “I am not leaving." Xenos said and Laranthir chuckled.

  
  


There were many things to learn about Laranthir. He was vigilant, dutiful, placid and glib at times if he bothered to be; what was most prominent however was that Laranthir would work himself to the point of complete exhaustion and he would suddenly be found sleeping at his desk or at the war-table.

The first time Xenos woke him with a gentle shake on his shoulder.

The second time Xenos watched for a few moments before he was flabbergasted by his own stupidity and cleared his throat, which startled the secondborn awake.

The third time he just guarded his sleep.

  
  


Xenos was with Laranthir at the summit and was the one to pull the secondborn through the portal because Pale Mother give him strength, Laranthir didn't  _know_ what was good for him.

“Xenos!" Laranthir said when the portal blinked around them and tried to pry off Xenos hand that curled like a vine around his wrist. “Trahearne is-”

“ _Fine_." Xenos snapped out. “And _not_ my responsibility.”

As if to prove his point Trahearne appeared through the portal before it flickered closed and it  _shouldn't_ annoy him when Laranthir flew from his grasp to Trahearne's side, but it did.

  
  


The anger from that moment seemed to boil hotly and hissing within him, a jealously he knew he was not entitled to. Laranthir was no where even near to being  _his_ , thorns, throughout all of this, Xenos sometimes forgot what it was he was here for. 

Boerrn was the one to remind him at times in a joking manner, but the next time the norn gave a boisterous laugh and joked, “A hard man to bed is a man to keep.” Xenos was quiet and glared into his ale as if it were somehow to blame for his incessant misery.

  
  


“ _Xen-" Laranthir gasped into the kiss and Xenos looked down at the secondborn, panting harshly._

“ _If you tell me to stop,” Xenos warned, “I'm telling you now you'll have to knock me out.”_

_Laranthir shook his head. “I want you. I just don't know...”_

“ _No thinking. I'll cloud your mind, I'll make you forget that words existed, I'll make you forget to think, just once.”_

“ _You...can do that?”_

“ _Let me show you." Xenos grinned and pulled Laranthir-_

There was a loud _swishing_ noise when a stray flare went off and Xenos groaned into his pillow.

  
  


  
  


His goal had been so simple. See – seduce – sex. A rule he called the “three S”. Sometimes See could be replaced with 'Seen' – as in being seen by someone whom he knew would be interested and all that was fun and easy.

When he looked at Laranthir now he didn't see a target. He saw a strong sylvari worthy of his position he'd acquired in life; a stern, kind and handsome sylvari with a will of iron and perpetual magnanimity.

He knew that the Pact needed Laranthir and that Xenos had no place here. No real one.

  
  


“Why are you here?" Laranthir asked one day in Camp Resolve, eyes glancing up toward where Xenos stood with his arms folded.

“I get the impression you want to hear me say it again." Xenos teased and Laranthir straightened.

“I think you are a better person than you are leading on." Laranthir said and the twitch of Xenos' hand was the only indication he'd actually reacted. “I figured your answer might have changed.”

“I care nothing for the people." Xenos lied once again. Pale Tree help him if only he could make it less a lie.

  
  


Epiphanies were not for everybody. Especially not for Xenos. Once he realized he wanted more from his life than being a servant to gold Xenos drank to numb the stupidity of his naïve thoughts.

“Is this not a bit much?" Boerrn asked and Xenos raised an eyebrow at the norn. “A bit much to bed one guy, I mean.”

“It's not about that." Xenos sulked.

“Where is he, huh?" Boerrn joked and clasped a large hand atop his shoulder. “Where is Xen and what have you done with him?”

“Shut up.” grumbled Xenos into his drink.

  
  


It was a dead-quiet, cold night when Xenos passed beneath the Command centre and heard familiar voices over him.

“...a mercenary." he heard Trahearne say and stood rooted, listening in.

“I trust him." Laranthir said candidly. “He's shown he is a capable fighter.”

“He...stares. At you." Trahearne murmured tentatively.

“He is...peculiar." Laranthir admitted. “But underneath all that, he cares deeply for those in need. Selfishness and narcissism are his shield. I believe he is capable of benevolence and munificence.”

“Very well." Trahearne said, but Xenos was already absconding, body thrumming hotly.

Laranthir believed. In _him._

  
  


“Ah, there you are." Laranthir smiled. Xenos cursed himself inwardly when the flutter in his stomach began anew when he heard the voice. The straw-puppet most likely did not deserve the vicious blow he pierced it with, but it fell to the ground in a heap regardless. “We will be meeting with Trahearne and the others shortly.”

Slowly Xenos lowered his greatsword and blinked over his shoulder toward where the secondborn stood. By the Pale Tree, he was _grand._ Charming. Picturesque. Every bit a Commander and a Warmaster as he deserved.

“I'll be there." he grunted out reluctantly.

  
  


When Xenos found Laranthir asleep at his desk again he wanted dissuade himself from attempting anything that was enticing and intrepid at the same time – if not moronic.

He stood rooted for a few moments, staring at the steady rise and fall of Laranthir's chest with each drawn and released breath, the rhythm reverberating softly through the small room. He moved before the manacles of hesitance could encumber him.

He tip-toed to the wardrobe, grabbed the first cloak he saw and brought it in a soft flush and a hush of air over Laranthir's shoulders and fled the scene.

  
  


_Xenos was naked, kneeling over Laranthir with one hand planted on the bed, the other...well. He really could not take much more of this. He wanted to push in so bad it was driving him mad._

“ _Ah!" Laranthir cried when he curled his fingers and Xenos smiled knowingly, brushing that spot with agonizing precision._

“ _You like that?" he asked and Laranthir's eyes open, face distorted in pleasure, looking salacious, enraptured and panting harshly._

“ _What...what is-" Laranthir gasped and Xenos moved his finger-_

A window shattered nearby, jolting Xenos awake. He glared at the shards of glass wrathfully.

  
  


Xenos was not sure what kind of spirits had smiled upon him to dissuade Laranthir from his work for a couple of hours and let him persuade him to drink with him instead, but here they were.

Well, Xenos had his ale, mindful not to drink too much because he barely trusted himself as it was, and Laranthir with a cup of water. But despite the restrictions it was... _easier_ than he thought.

“It _is_ nice." Laranthir admitted. “I can see myself indulging more often.”

Xenos chocked on his drink. Thorns, one sylvari could take only so much of this.

  
  


Soon enough it became a habit. Quiet evenings they would meet in the only thing in Camp Resolve that had any similarity to a tavern, and...

talked.

_By the Pale Tree,_ Xenos had never talked so much in his life. 

“Blue?" Laranthir tried and Xenos shook his head. “Green?” Another shake. “Black?”

Xenos smirked. “Red." he revealed. “The colour of fire, blood and passion. Yours must be..." he mustered Laranthir once again, deliberately taking his time to let his gaze wander over well-trained arms and strong thighs covered by his tunic. “...it is not red, is it?”

Laranthir laughed.

  
  


“I have no Wyld Hunt." Laranthir confessed with a shrug. “I have felt it was my calling to join the Vigil in the name of the Pale Tree – and have served it since.”

“And what of your hobbies?" Xenos continued to ask, sipping on his drink.

“I occasionally watch the sunrise, when my schedule allows.”

That was more bared and open and candid than Xenos had imagined the answer to be. “We could watch it together." he said before he thought better of it.

Laranthir looked surprised for a moment. “I'd like that." the secondborn agreed.

  
  


“Spirits know you'd be lost or hanged at least twelve times by now if not for me.” There was a small pause and Boerrn mustered him more closely. “Spirits, no. Don't tell me you actually-”

“What?" Xenos snapped impatiently.

“You _like_ him.”

“Don't be ridiculous." Xenos defended weakly, but his defense came out a second too late.

“Oh, by bear's claws, you _do_. Someone grab a marker, I gotta put this in my journal." Boerrn laughed.

Xenos hit the norn's arm. “Shut up!”

Boerrn just laughed, not even bothering to block or smother the blow.

  
  


In the mocking way that Boerrn did everything the norn sat down and pulled a leather-bound book from within his coat, humming happily to himself as he put down a short note in his journal with a piece of charcoal. Then he looked up Xenos with a shit-eating grin.

“I wrote Laranthir plus Xenos and drew a heart around it.”

“I will strangle you and feed you to the crows." Xenos hissed.

“Loooove is in the air~" the norn began to sing.

“Stuff it!”

and the rest of the bar tried desperately to contain their laughter.

  
  


“You want me to...what?" Xenos asked, certain his hearing must be impaired.

“The Zephyrites." Laranthir repeatedly. “They've opened a bazaar. I want you to review if anything can be of use.”

“You want me to go _shopping._ ”

Laranthir continued as if Xenos had not spoken. “With the state Lion's Arch is in we will need sponsors and funds.”

“I am not a diplomat." Xenos argued.

“Be charming. I recall that coming easily to you.”

“Oh? Do you now?" Xenos smirked widely.

“Just don't sleep with any of our potential trading partners." Laranthir chuckled.

  
  


Xenos spoke to almost all the Zephyrites he saw. Their culture was fascinating to a certain extent, especially because his life spent as a mercenary saw the many opportunities that offered themselves. A bodyguard, someone to protect the children, a teacher to those that were untrained. He refused all offers and was regarded with even more interest.

“You are very loyal." a woman mentioned with a broad smile, and the trail of her eyes was neither something he didn't recognize nor was it entirely unpleasant. “Your wife must be very, _very_ happy.”

Xenos chuckled. “I am sylvari. We seldom marry.”

“Oh?" she made, clearly intrigued. Women thought themselves subtle to ask in such a way to get the information they wanted – in this case she was curious if he was taken. Some women were more direct, and others blatantly ignored the topic altogether. “I apologize. We see so little of the world in its small parts. I am afraid I know very little of your kind.”

She shifted closer and Xenos regarded her again with different eyes. Full red lips, sunkissed skin, golden hair that bathed her shoulders. Her beauty was apparent to even the blind eye, and when she titled her head to reveal the crook of her neck, Xenos knew the body language better than anyone else.

“I'd be happy to answer all questions you might have." Xenos replied blandly, and the woman's friends giggled lightly.

“Tell me more of yourself. Your skin, is it...?”

Xenos lifted his arm, allowing her to touch his forearm, and her fingers brushed along the marks protruding from the bark with a fascinated glint in her eyes. “Our skin is like that of the bark of a tree." Xenos smiled, his skin tingling. “We have no inner organs such as humans and we can not father nor bear any children. But, “ he added when she lifted her gaze, “We indulge in the pleasures of the act nonetheless.”

She chuckled at that. “And have you the incentive to do so, now?”

He'd jump at such an opportunity, usually. He would raise his hand and gingerly take a lock of her hair and curl it around his finger, lean closer and answer  _If it please you, milady,_ and she would giggle and put her arm around his own and pull him along, but now...

“Whatever would my none-existant wife think?" he asked and she giggled again. “I am flattered by your offer, but I have a duty to fulfil.”

“And,” Boerrn added unhelpfully, “His to-be would be upset if he failed.”

“To-be?" the woman asked, eyes glancing between them. “You are wooing someone then?”

Xenos tried not to glare at Boerrn who was laughing behind his fist. “It is...complicated.”

“Oh!" she made. “So intriguing. Is it someone we know?” They possibly did. She could judge from his face that he would rather not speak of it, and that alone made her more witty than half the people Xenos had ever been with. “Do not fret. I am sure he'll come around.”

“Who said anything about a he?" Xenos asked quickly, _too_ quickly.

“Ah." she made, eyes glinting, and he knew he'd been caught. “A he, hum?”

“...possibly." Xenos answered evenly and she smiled.

“Tell you what, _Xen_." she lured and pulled her arm trough his, clinging close to his side. She smelled of sunshine and flowers. “I suddenly find myself wanting to help you woo this person. How about you tell me about this duty of yours, and you return successful?”

By the Pale Tree, Xenos could not have  _planned_ this better.

  
  


“They...agreed?" Laranthir raised his eyes from the papers and blinked up at Xenos in surprise.

“You doubted me." Xenos said, feigning hurt, a smug grin on his lips and arms folded in front of his chest. He'd never tell the secondborn how he got the trade contract.

“Your methods, perhaps." Laranthir amended. “Not the results.”

Xenos shrugged. “I did as you told me, Laranthir." Xenos said. “With charm alone.”

Laranthir raised his eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I'll keep it in mind." he said and dismissed him, but Xenos could not help but smile nonetheless.

  
  


Laranthir, unlike many other sylvari, did not have fern or blossoms covering his head. There were branches gnarled and pressed tightly along his scalp all the way to his neck that were of a rosy colour, while Laranthir's skin was a soft yellow like sunrise.

There were four prominent marks on his face: his eyebrows, the line over his cheekbones, and a soft jut just under his chin of young branches that were barely the size of half a finger, yet they gave the impression of what humans called a beard.

Xenos found himself staring amorously more often than not.

  
  


_Laranthir pushed him back against the tree, and thorns, the strength in those arms was astounding. Xenos let out a surprised noise and blinked down at the warmaster who was looking at him with determination and..._

_was that hunger?_

_Fuck._

“ _Xenos." Laranthir whispered hotly and Xenos thought the whole world might dissolve and disappear. He'd disappear. “Please.”_

“ _Please?" Xenos repeated, for once at a loss for words. Thorns, Laranthir pressed against him, body squeezing against his own and Xenos groaned._

“ _I want you." Laranthir gasped against his lips -_

A door banged loudly and rattled Xenos awake.

  
  


“Why did you become a mercenary?" Laranthir asked.

“...I was good at it." Xenos shrugged. “Money bought nice things. It was...easy.”

“Change is not easy." Laranthir murmured.“Your skills are put to better use here. Here where some must fight, so that all may be free.”

There was a momentary pause Xenos tried to decide what to say – and for the first time, decided for honesty. “I want to be a part of that." Xenos admitted and Laranthir met his gaze, onyx meeting flame.

“You are." Laranthir said and their gaze held, gravitation unspooling between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the touch with the naughty dreams there? It makes sense that when you are focused on getting one thing, it pervades into your subconscious enough to make you _dream_ of it, and I have to admit it occurred only a few days ago to me that it would make sense for Xenos' sub-conscience to toil and plague him.  
>  See you in the next one, and much love!


	21. The Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Ghost" is a device used in story writing. I came across it by watching a Youtube video about "How to write", and I'll post the link when I have a mind to go search for it in case you are interested.  
> It only made sense to me that no matter how vigilant and strong Laranthir appeared, there had to be a weakness to him. Everybody has one, and his weakness seemed plausible the second I grasped it. I'll let you go and read what I think that specific weakness is, so off you go!

_Definition: An open wound that is often the source of a heroes psychological weakness._

There was a thud, a soft gasp, and then Laranthir answered, “Come in.”

Xenos opened the door tentatively, glancing inside. Laranthir was arranging boxes, papers and books and – what in the Pale Tree's name  _was_ that, was that a dragon's tooth? - writing utensils scattered over the floor.

“Ah, Xenos." Laranthir greeted, barely even looking up. “I received your report, but I haven't gotten around to..." the secondborn trailed off, his gaze drifting over the boxes. “Truth be told, I haven't found it again, I'm afraid.”

“Everything _except_ your desk is clean, usually." Xenos noticed. “Well...except now.”

“Is there something I can help you with?" Laranthir asked with a chuckle and brushed his hands on his tunic, gazing upward.

“There's a small celebration down by the pub" Xenos said. “You weren't there.”

“As you can see, my attention is required here." Laranthir pointed at all the boxes. “Once morning comes, the office needs to be sorted and ready – and I've pushed that away far enough.”

“You know you'll rust when you spend so much time at the office." Xenos mentioned.

“I train in the morning hours." Laranthir shrugged. “But I appreciate your concern.” The image of Laranthir dragging in ragged, heaving breaths, sweat forming atop his forehead and eyes glazed with a sheer determination for battle wasn't exactly helping Xenos mind to focus.

“Do you" Xenox began and gulped down the lump in his throat. “Do you need any help with this?" Xenos pointed with a general gesture of the room. Laranthir gave him a look, assessing him as if uncertain. “If I make you uncomfortable..." Xenos trailed off and Laranthir crouched down beside the box again, unpacking it slowly.

“I will tell you." Laranthir soothed and didn't look up to meet his eyes.

“So...these?" Xenos asked and Laranthir pointed toward the shelf behind himself.

“Arrange them there. If you feel motivated, go for size. If you want to impress me, go for alphabetical.”

“Is this occupational therapy?" Xenos chuckled and gripped the first book. S.

“On occasion, it's spare time.”

B. F. K. S. another S.

“Who needs this many books?" Xenos asked into the quiet of the room and pulled one from the pile he'd gathered in his arm, but the leather was slippery and slipped from his fingers and it fell to the floor with a _thud_ , splaying open. “Sorry." Xenos murmured and set the pile down, but Laranthir had not even looked up. Xenos lifted the book gingerly from the ground and read the page that was opened – and froze.

It wasn't a book. It was a register, a _list_. A list of names. Xenos turned the page, and another, _and another_ , and there were so many names with dates and signs at the side, some of them reading MIA and KIA and other abbreviations Xenos did not know.

“Laranthir." Xenos breathed out and the secondborn looked up from what he was doing and stilled when he saw Xenos with the book splayed open in his hand. “You keep these?” Xenos had not bothered to read the titles of the books before, but now that he did...

B. _Battle of Claw Island._

F. _Fort Concordia._

K. _Kessex Hills – The Tower of Nightmares_

S. _Scarlet – First Volume_

_First Volume._ By the Pale Tree, what did that even mean? That  _so many_ were suddenly gone from Tyria, missing, abducted or killed? The silence stretched and Xenos tried to wrap his head around the idea, and found that he could not.

Laranthir didn't answer. All the secondborn did was stare lost in thought, eyes trailing over the many books. The look on his features was nothing short of _haunted._

“Laranthir-" Xenos began again, and it was the first time that he saw what truly lay behind the mask of superiority, behind the mask of the warmaster and commander and calm and collected mind of Laranthir.

It struck him like a fist to the stomach, making him want to coil in on himself, nausea lifting its way up into his throat.

What he saw was deep, raw, and pained.

It was _guilt_.

Laranthir stood and sighed, covering his features up once again, closing himself off from the World, from the Pact, from _Xenos_. “I do not wish to speak of it.”

“These..." Xenos trailed off, sifting from page through page before he looked up again. He was too startled to realize what Laranthir's stature meant, too caught up in the sudden swirl in his head. “Laranthir, these are not your fault.”

If he had a sword his words may have equalled a strike at Laranthir's heart. But sometimes, _sometimes_ , all you wielded were your words, and some words cut deeper than others – and left a cut no blade ever could.

He realized this too late, just one second to late, but the word hung in there nonetheless and it was impossible for him to take them back.

“It is not your concern." Laranthir said evenly, levelly, _forcefully_ so, and Xenos suddenly knew he'd overstepped a line, a thin path he was not meant to cross. He'd come to close, he'd seen beneath Laranthir's mask, and now the secondborn was pushing him away. “I think I'll manage on my own now, thank you.”

Xenos almost groaned. “Laranthir-”

It hurt when the secondborn went to the door in a fearful calm that would erupt and explode any second now, Xenos was sure, and Laranthir held the door open with a soft creak that came from the hinges. Xenos didn't want to push, he didn't mean to...

“Please see yourself out.”

The blandness of his tone might have as well not been there. All Xenos felt was a rushing in his ears like a waterfall crushing his thoughts and when he walked toward the door he did so stiffly and almost in a haze, his fingers gripped the door handle tightly and he tried to decide if he should look at Laranthir or if he should simply leave, but the impulse was faster than a decision his mind ould produce, and he looked down at Laranthir only to notice that the onyx eyes were turned away.

“We could talk." Xenos suggested instead, throat dry, almost desperate. He didn't want to leave Laranthir alone in this, he didn't...

Laranthir sighed. “This is not something that you can exploit, Xenos." Laranthir said quietly, and the words _stung_ deep in Xenos' chest like splinters from a shrapnel “Good night.”

Xenos moved through the door, his fingers falling from the door handle and the door closed with a soft click behind him. He turned around and he found himself staring at the wood for a few painfully long seconds before he sighed in dismay and defeat, realizing that whatever closeness they had finally achieved, there was a wall there that Xenos could not tear down.

On the other side Laranthir waited until he heard Xenos' steps disappearing down the hall before he sunk down with his back against the door, eyes staring out over the mess he needed to clean, but he just sat there, thoughts drifting in circles incessantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laranthir's weakness is guilt. I believe it accumulated over time. In order to not forget the sacrifices that have been made in the past to create the present he lives in, he keeps books of all those under his command (and others he knows) in order to remember - and finds that even with all the work he puts into this task, some are still forgotten. This plagues him deeply, and that is where his guilt comes from. Guilt translates into a message: "Change what you are doing to prevent something from happening again" - and he spends even more time to dedicate to those that were lost - to loose himself in it slowly.  
> It's what I like to call a circulus vitiosus, which is Latin for "vicious cycle." 
> 
> I would like to know what you think. Does it make sense? Would you have thought Laranthir to have another weakness? Perhaps you see something that I cannot, despite the time I have had to ponder about this. Your input would be greatly appreciated, so don't be shy! Even if it's just to comment "Hey, sorry Seruna, but I believe that's bullocks, because [insert sound argument here]". That's perfectly fine! 
> 
> Let's talk it out and have a good one over coffee, yes? Lovely!  
> See you guys! Much love!


	22. The Shephard and the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! I am on a roll!  
> We all know the story of the Shepard and the Wolf. If you do not I advise you to check it out and see for yourself the most valuable lesson that lies within. Xenos will come to realize it himself not long from now. What it exactly is will be revealed in part in this rather short chapter, and if you don't understand just yet that's fine. It'll be clear the more the chapters continue, don't fret.

_Definition: To create the representation of a thing or outcome and having it rebound upon ones-self._

It was not like Xenos could avoid Laranthir, or that the secondborn could avoid _him,_ in that regard. Xenos was his bodyguard, the one to look after him and be at his side, but that was kind of hard to do when _nobody knew where the secondborn was_.

Xenos was grasping at last straws, his patience wearing incredibly thin. For someone so vigilant and exalted, Laranthir should have learned how to adequately address a problem.

Running was not a solution.

It was Poetic Justice that he was gazing into his drink, drowning his own memories. He gulped it down eagerly.

  
  


Xenos stomped up the steps, ready to burst out with a tirade when he saw Laranthir was standing with Trahearne and Sgileas – all three of them turning toward him.

“Ah, Xenos." Trahearne greeted blandly. He looked by far the most pleased to see him. Sgileas never looked pleased (Really, what did it take to make that guy smile?) and Laranthir blinked at Xenos as if he'd never seen him before.

“Where were you?" Xenos finally brought out.

“I was on a mission." Laranthir frowned. “Didn't you get my message?”

The messenger slept soundly under a bar-table.

  
  


“I am sure you have seen your share of injuries." Xenos shrugged when Laranthir inspected a cut on his cheek.

“I have." Laranthir admitted. “Inflicted, received and seen.”

“What is the worst injury you ever sustained?" Xenos continued.

“When we fought Zaithan in Orr. I was on an airship, but despite the fact that we were afloat it did not stop the risen from spawning right atop of us. One caught me by surprise. I woke days later when a mender stitched me back together.”

“I'm glad you didn't die.”

“Me too.” Laranthir chuckled.

  
  


“I'd kill Krait any day.”

“Even those still sleeping beneath an egg-shell in sheltered and cosy nests?" Laranthir asked. “Would you kill those that are innocent to the crimes of their kin?”

“What difference would it make?" Xenos frowned. “They would grow to be evil – Parasites upon the world. Abducting _children._ ”

“We must give all a fair chance to overcome their evil nature. Everything has a right to grow.”

“The rules of _survival_ apply to all, not Ventari's quaint philosophy.”

“We can change that." Laranthir said softly. “You've proven we can change that.”

  
  


Despite Laranthir's attempt to appear nonchalant, Xenos noticed that the conversation was softly steered by the secondborn. He didn't dare address the elephant in the room, the thing he'd discovered, even though he'd come to the conviction it would be for the best.

But Laranthir's words echoed in his head, and he wondered how he would prove that he wasn't going to exploit Laranthir's weakness; that he meant to truly listen and understand. Perhaps as a friend he could. But he was no friend of Laranthir's, was he?

No. He was the greedy mercenary who sought nothing else but pleasure.

  
  


“ _Tell me you don't want me." Xenos whispered into Laranthir's ear. He wanted to rip Laranthir's tunic from his skin, nibble at his ear and neck and kiss along his jawline._

“ _I don't-" Laranthir began, but his breath hitched and he craned his neck when Xenos leg moved in closer, tighter, harder._

“ _Yeah?" Xenos gasped. “I'll lift you here.” His fingers dug into Laranthir's thighs and lower, grasping his posterior and squeezing tightly, pulling the secondborn against him. “Tell me. Tell me, Laranthir.”_

_Laranthir opened his mouth. “I-”_

Xenos woke drenched and with a hard-on, cursing loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xenos representation of himself is as he states himself: _He was the greedy mercenary who sought nothing else but pleasure._ , but he finds that now matter how tenaciously he tries to hold on to that perception of himself, he finds it has already started to shift, and the slow creeping realization that he is no longer the same is the effective rebound he didn't mean to experience.  
> Does that clear that up? I get the feeling I invest alot of philosophical time with this, especially delving into psychology. But I am enjoying myself immensely, and I hope you are too. Let me know, yeah?  
> Much Love!


	23. Reason to Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again!  
> We all have it - that one thing worth pursuing that leaves us restless when we do not. It's a dream, a picture, a projection, and I must admit that my stories and work as an author is part of _my_ dream. I say 'part' because there's much, much more, but I don't want to stray too far from the track.  
>  I made the definition up myself, and I imagine it's not perfect, so let me know how you would define "Reason to Live" in the comments! I am excited to read what it is that you think.

_Definition: A vivid representation of a thing, dream or person for which all your time and energy is spent._

Laranthir stared at the cup incredulously. “I'm not sure.”

“It's easy." Xenos shrugged and took the cup to his lips and downing it in one go. The liquid inside burned down his throat and he grimaced and coughed, and blinked at Laranthir through tears. “See?”

“Uh-huh." Laranthir made. It was early morning, most of the members of the Pact either gone to rest or asleep here on the tables. Only a handful were awake enough to not snore, and all of those awake were no longer sober enough to have social conversation with. “I think I'll pass.”

“Ah, more for me." Xenos shrugged, feeling bold and snatching Laranthir's abandoned cup and downing it in the same moment that Laranthir began to protest.

The cup was torn from his fingers, some of the liquid spilling over his armour and he coughed, blinking when the burn like acid slowly descended into his stomach. “I think that's quite enough." Laranthir murmured, and Xenos had no choice but to watch Laranthir dunk it in the sink behind the bar.

“That." Xenos said, looking for words as his brain buzzed. “That is very dissipative.”

“And healthy. I think whatever is in this stuff will burn through all chalk in the pipes.”

“Hah. You're funny.”

Laranthir mustered him worriedly. “Will you make it to the barracks?”

“Eh. One foot. Left, right, left, right." Xenos jumped from the bar stool, swaying only one. “Easy-peasy.”

“I'll walk you back." Laranthir sighed and left a generous tip on the bar even though he'd only sipped on the beverage and grasped Xenos' arm. “Come on.”

“Did you have fun?" Xenos asked as they made their way toward the door and out into the open. It had taken all of Xenos' cajolery-skills to get Laranthir to at least visit the tavern.

“I think I counted twenty-two soldiers asleep, of which I know will have to be awake in four hours for the morning shift.”

“That doesn't sound fun.”

Laranthir chuckled. “It isn't.”

“But you can be fun.” Laranthir didn't answer and Xenos stopped, feeling a bit sobered up by the night air, and he was not gone far enough to go about slurring stuff and sway like an idiot, no. The sudden jolt had Laranthir halting as well, dark eyes frowning in question. “I'm serious. You need to lighten up.”

“Perhaps when the work is done.”

“Spoken like someone who never wishes to run out of work.”

“And you would know what _that_ is like.”

“Touché. At least I know that living _for_ work is not living at all.”

“And what would you suggest?" Laranthir asked, voice rising just slightly. “That I drink myself into stupor as other soldiers do? I know why they drink, and it is not because it is an acquired taste or it is part of recreational activity. It is to forget.”

“It is better than to build a wall of paper and wake of to creases of your pen upon your cheek.” Laranthir actually blushed at that. “ _and_ you would sleep much, much better.”

“It is no solution." Laranthir dead-panned.

“No, but yours isn't either.”

“I am not sure how you would be the judge of that." Laranthir said, frowning.

Xenos stepped closed and noticed the tense pull of Laranthir's shoulder immediately, cautioning himself. The liquid clouded his head just slightly, but he wasn't completely gone.

Hopefully.

“You sleep at your desk. You wake at your desk. Heck, I can count the occasions I have seen you outside your office on _one_ hand. You work so much for others and forget to go outside and see the wonders you accomplish. Instead of watching the fruits of your work, you collect dark rings under your eyes. Instead of training with your soldiers, you insist that the papers in your office will be less patient than the men who serve you. You _isolate_ yourself needlessly, and I need not tell you where that leads.”

Laranthir was stunned into silence and took a step back. “Perhaps I need not walk you back after all.”

Xenos groaned when he realized _why_ Laranthir created distance and reached out when Laranthir pulled back. “Laranthir-”

“Good night." Laranthir said, taking a step out of Xenos' reach. The secondborn turned away without waiting for another word of protest and his steps crunched on the sand and rocks beneath, reverberating unbelievably loud in Xenos ears.

It almost covered the rush in them, the rush of anger that made his limps feel boiling and _hot_ , and Xenos clenched his hands into fists and cursed at himself when Laranthir was out of range, swinging his fist against a lamp stand. The wood crunched under the force but held, the pole oscillating slowly above his head before slowly stilling.

_Thorns,_ he had messed up  _again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even after Xenos saw what Laranthir's "Ghost" was, I do not imagine that Laranthir would push Xenos away completely. Avoidance would seem a compensation taken too far for the warmaster, and instead I believe he'd resolve to simply not address the problem and act as if nothing had changed - even though he knows better than to believe problems that are pushed away resolve themselves.  
> It is only unlucky that Xenos is not one to beat around the bushes, and that certain beverages loosen the tongue. Let's see in the next chapters how our two will continue their dance, yes?  
> See you in the next one, and much Love!


	24. Overcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took me so long to complete. So many feels and thoughts.
> 
> EDIT  
> I have no idea if this happened as I tried to correct some mistakes or I simply did not post it correctly from the start, but...  
> There was an entire section missing from the beginning that elaborated on the fight at Camp Resolve and HOW Xenos and Laranthir even got to the point to talk once again after having parted in the chapter before. I apologize for this and I've fixed it and corrected the formatting while I was at it.  
> Now you may enjoy yourselves <3

Definition: To survive, best and then exceed a circumstance.

 

 

Xenos rushed up the stairs and was faced with the Commanders as well as Sigleas, Trahearne, and Laranthir who looked up at him only briefly before resuming.

Anger flashed under his skin, but he didn't show it. He tried not to mind when Laranthir averted his eyes more quickly than all the others when the secondborn masked his face and did not allow a single emotion to cross into his features.

It was coincidence Xenos had heard that a meeting was taking place. Laranthir certainly had not told him. Why?

Xenos moved towards Laranthir's side, listening keenly. He'd find out.

 

 

The meeting was interrupted when a loud horn bellowed through Camp Resolve, and they moved toward the railing to inspect what was going on.

Mordrem were streaming from all sides into the Camp, and it was Trahearne's voice that raised higher than all. “Form up!”, he cried. “We are under attack!”

Sgileas grasped the railing and jumped below atop the stairs with nimble ease, and Laranthir was moving just as well. Xenos barely had time to rush after the secondborn, all thoughts of their inevitable confrontation forgotten.

He'd address it, he had decided. Now, they had a battle to win.

 

 

Soaked in sap and sweat Xenos finally lifted his heavy greatsword into the sheath atop his back and glanced sideways at Laranthir, who looked similar. Breast heaving with every breath, pattern pulsing in the shadow of the canyon, and Xenos' mouth turned dry at the sight.

He gulped and marched over, his eyes trailing over Laranthir's form, and even though the Secondborn noticed his stare, he didn't comment on it. “Are you alright?”, Xenos asked and Laranthir gave a curt nod, still catching his breath.

“I am fine.”, Laranthir finally said, then added hesitantly. “You?”

Xenos smiled softly. “Me too.”

 

  
  


 

* * *

  


“We must strike now.”, Trahearne said and planted the small wooden figurine of  _The Glory of Tyria_ atop the table, right amidst the yet uncharted jungle. It was a final gesture, leaving no room for argument. Not that any of them wanted; the recent victory against Mordremoth had boosted their spirits and certainty. They could win. “Prepare the fleet. Come morning, we will be on our way.”

Laranthir nodded. "I will make the preparations, Marshal." Another curt nod towards Sgileas in a gesture of goodbye, and then Laranthir moved. Xenos gave both of them a glance before he followed Laranthir.

 

 

The secondborn was moving with determination, shoulders drawn in and face stern. It was almost frightening, and all the members of the Pact that crossed their paths didn't dare stand in Laranthir's way as he moved like a whirlwind. The Captain's took his orders easily and saluted, and the soldiers nodded eagerly in the face of the new oncoming fight.

To Xenos, it felt surreal still. That he was here, with the Pact, fighting an Elder Dragon. Never in his life had he imagined to be more than a mercenary, or to have more than gold.

But now he did.

 

 

While Laranthir spoke Xenos was at his side, listening, quiet, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts orbited around Laranthir, thinking about the great battle to come, and the stringent and sizzling tension between them.

Nothing had been easy since Xenos had discovered what Laranthir's mark was. It was a weakness the secondborn was most likely ashamed of and did not want to share, that he clung to because his moral compass indicated it was the right thing to do.

But guilt, Xenos found, was not simply a negative emotion. It was a message, and Laranthir was refusing to listen.

 

 

 

  
  


 

* * *

  


Night had fallen when the last Captain saluted and the Pact members were going to sleep with anxiety and excitement for the oncoming battle. It was dark and cool, and Xenos had thought long and hard, and when Laranthir finally turned timidly toward him, most likely to tell him to get some rest before the battle, Xenos took the most daring step of his life.

"Laranthir." he said when the secondborn opened his mouth, and that startled Laranthir into temporary, contemplative silence. Xenos bark prickled, his fibers thrummed, a hot pulse of trepidation and anxiety surged through him."We must talk."

 

 

Laranthir closed his mouth and stared at him for a few, agonizing moments before the secondborn sighed. "It can not wait?" Laranthir asked hesitantly, and Xenos would like nothing more than to give Laranthir that moment of respite and escape, but this had to be done.

“On the morrow, we will fight an Elder Dragon.”, Xenos said. “We can not fight amongst ourselves, too.”

“You are right.”, Laranthir agreed acquiescent and took a deep, sharp breath, bracing himself and summoning his courage. Xenos watched the moment the strength and resolve flushed into Laranthir's features and stance with reverie and awe.

 

“One last drink, then?”, Laranthir suggested and gestured toward his sleeping quarters. “Despite what you may think, I do have a stash neatly hidden in my office.”

Xenos chuckled lightly at that. “Alright.”

The walk felt tense and light at the same time, enjoyable and thrilling, yet absolutely terrifying and electric with anxiety. In all his life Xenos had avoided confrontations such as this by not being  _present long_ enough for such a circumstance to occur, but now, things had changed. It was different now.

_He_  was different.

It was a terrifying thing to admit, but liberating all the same.

 

 

 

 

* * *

  


It only occurred to Xenos that it was a sign of trust by Laranthir that he allowed him to enter his room so late at night, that the secondborn allowed Xenos to be alone with him.

With that knowledge in mind, Xenos was determined not to exploit Laranthir's trust. Not when they had gotten quite so far, not when he was…

He didn't want to finish that sentence.

Laranthir crouched down near a bookshelf and lifted the back panel before he produced a bottle that looked little like the human and norn beverages Xenos had tasted.

"Is that…nectar?" Xenos asked.

 

 

"It was a gift." Laranthir answered as if it was something he needed to apologize for. "I have no cups. Is the bottle alright?"

 Xenos felt his fingertips tingling already without the need for any substance to cloud his mind.

"Yeah." he answered, if a bit strangled, and watched as Laranthir uncorked the bottle with a  _plop_ and held it out for him to take. He took it carefully, swirling the liquid inside with a rotating movement of his wrist before he took a swig.

It was just as sweet as he remembered: Like fluid, melting honey on his tongue.

 

 

He did not dare take another swig and held it out for Laranthir to take, and the secondborn took it, looking a bit timid and reluctant before carefully setting the bottle to his lips. Xenos watched as even Laranthir, the Warmaster who was avert to anything that did not concern his duty, seemed to relax when the nectar filled his mouth. He gulped and then stared at the bottle for a thoughtful few seconds before he gestured toward the ground.

"Let us sit. I don't want to be standing when this takes effect, nor when we are having this conversation."

 

 

"Afraid it will sweep you off your feet?" Xenos teased and Laranthir gave a weak smile in response. Xenos slowly eased himself down toward the ground and watched as Laranthir did the same. The secondborn looked nervous, quite out of place, as if he did not know what to do with himself, and if Xenos was honest, he did not know either. He gulped and wondered how much nectar would be required to loosen their tongues, and wondered what the outcome of this would be.

It could turn out well, or it could turn out to go horribly,  _horribly_ wrong.

 

 

"So." Xenos began, feeling strangled and mouth parched. Laranthir seemed to notice and wordlessly held out the nectar, and Xenos took it. "Thanks." Another swig before he set it down and took a deep breath. "So. The books."

"The books." Laranthir echoed timidly, and both resisted the urge to look behind them. "They are the names of those under my command or soldiers that I know."

"Why do you keep them?"

Laranthir did not meet his eyes. "So that I do not forget." There was a small pause. "But the names amass, and with each day names slip me by."

 

 

"You can't remember them all." Xenos murmured, and Laranthir finally met his eyes with a disapproving stare.

"So I am to forget?"

"No." Xenos said quietly and thoughtfully, and then held out the bottle for Laranthir to take. "Their lives were spent so that we could be here. So…be here. It would be a disservice to their sacrifice to wilt away in an office swelling on the past, instead of seeing the future they helped protect and create."

"Nobody wants to die." Laranthir said and refused to take the bottle. "They could not have known what the future would bring."

 

 

"You are wrong." Xenos said quietly, patiently holding out the bottle still. "Moments before your death, nothing is more clear than the reasons for which it is worth living for."

Laranthir frowned and then hesitantly took the bottle. "What are you remembering?" he asked carefully.

"I've touched death on occasion." Xenos answered. "What has kept me alive is something I refer to as the  _Berserk._  It's a force aligned with survival alone. It keeps me alive."

"And the reason you mentioned…?" Laranthir gleaned.

He met Laranthirs' onyx eyes firmly. "I've found it only recently." Xenos admitted. "But it's right  _here_."

 

 

Laranthir tried to keep his face level, tried to hide his gulp and leaned back. "Is that one of your lines?" he asked carefully.

Xenos grimaced and looked away. "I deserve that, I suppose." he murmured. "But it is not that. You-" he stopped himself and closed his eyes. Was it the nectar making the room spin, or were it the words dancing off the tip of his tongue? "You are the only one who bothered to see more in me. To believe that I could-" he curled his hands into fists. "You believed when even I did not dare."

 

 

"There is potential in all of us." Laranthir answered, throat feeling constricted. Even if he tried to tell himself that no matter how heart-felt Xenos' words were, how pained he looked to admit it all, he could not help but feel wary of the sympathy that grew within him.

"My purpose is  _here_." Xenos clarified. "I want to be-" Laranthir held his breath, mind swirling, mouth dry, fingers twitching - "I want to be beside you. And I want to help you as you've helped me."

"How?"

"By showing you what you are worth," Xenos said with gleaming red eyes.

 

 

_By the Pale Tree_. Laranthir was sure now that even though sylvari had no heart, the tingle and pulse in his body could be credited to a similar force pounding through him. He glanced down at the Nectar, wondering how much of all this was the beverages fault when he realized they had barely taken few swigs - and none of this was to be blamed upon a clouded mind. "I won't do it." Laranthir heard himself say and looked up to meet Xenos' frowning eyes. "I will not burn, Xenos. I will not be the moth to your flame."

 

 

"My…what?" Xenos blinked, and Laranthir shifted a little, crossing the legs under him.

"You draw others in, you're charming and attractive and alluring, but I am not like them. I will not get burned."

The compliments almost fell on deaf ears. Almost. But hearing them from Laranthir's mouth was a reassurance Xenos had not known he had needed. "No" Xenos agreed. "You're better." Laranthir did not have a reply, and Xenos continued, "I won't watch as you wilt away behind your desk when you can accomplish almost impossible feats. This…" he gestured around them. "You are capable of more, Laranthir."

 

 

 

"I will not forget their sacrifice." Laranthir said defensively.

"I know." Xenos said. "But honor their sacrifice by living the life they made possible, not by dreading it. If it were my ghost watching you sit timidly at your desk day and night in solemn remembrance to the lost, I would think my death wasted."

"Don't-" Laranthir said and surprised himself when he couldn't bring the words out, but  _somehow_ , Xenos understood.

"I won't." Xenos soothed and edged closer carefully, hesitantly, and placed a warm, reassuring hand atop Laranthir's shoulder. "I won't."

Laranthir's fingers clutched the bottle of nectar tightly.

 

 

 

"The assault will take many more lives." Laranthir murmured.

"And they all have their reasons. To righten the wrong done to the Pale Tree, to fight for a Tyria free of the Elder Dragon's corruption and influence, to fight for family, friends…" Xenos watched Laranthir's face and noticed that the secondborn looked contemplative and pained. It was an impulse that seemed foolish the second he did it but there was no taking it back when he lifted his hand to cup Laranthir's cheek and chin, lifting the secondboorn's face to meet his gaze. "They have their reasons. We all do."

  

 

Laranthir twitched at the contact, looking startled and even a little frightened.  _Uncertain_. Xenos held the gaze for a few seconds that stretched, mouth and throat gone dry when he noticed that he was  _close_ to the secondborn, that he could feel bark and pattern underneath is palm and it was another impulse to  _look down_ , to glance only briefly at Laranthir's lips, and the second he did he looked up again and retreated, not trusting the warmth that spread from his belly into his fingertips. "Sorry." Xenos murmured and gulped. "I…that…"

Laranthir stared at him with wide, surprised eyes.

 

 

Whatever Xenos had seen in him, it was still there. It was different, transformed, changed into a feeling that was deeper than that of simple want and greed, more than that of accomplishment and triumph. The fact alone that Xenos pulled back even though he was so obviously and  _clearly_ tempted made Laranthir wonder if perhaps he was wrong, if perhaps Xenos was not so much a flame, but rather clueless in the form of his new reluctance and desire to not push Laranthir, to slowly tip-toe closer, to sneak slowly into his heart.

Was that part of the scheme?

 

 

Perhaps it was sincere, but Laranthir could not be sure and he had other things to worry about that to solve this question. It would be hard for Xenos to prove to him that he had changed in that regard unless Laranthir allowed it. Right now his stance was clear: That he thought Xenos to be a tenacious, insistent flirt, to be interested in only the one thing, and Laranthir would take no chance to prove that the opposite was the case. It was unfair toward Xenos, but it was for his own sake. For the sake of the Pact.

 

 

"Perhaps I should…" Xenos began and Laranthir did not attempt to stop him, not until Xenos had stood and was looking anywhere but at him and he felt a pang of sympathy.

He stood as well and reached out, holding on to Xenos' upper arm firmly. "Thank you, Xenos." Laranthir said, and Xenos looked up sheepishly. "I appreciate that you have been honest with me."

"Yeah." Xenos said and he sounded strangled. "No problem. But I should go."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do." Xenos argued. "I don't trust myself not to-" he shook his head. "Good night, Laranthir."

 

 

 

Laranthir's hand slipped from Xenos' arm, letting the warrior go. Xenos slipped out the door and Laranthir glanced at the bottle of nectar in his hand before he carefully corked it and placed it where he had hidden it. He was arguing with himself what he was to believe and what not to, but he believed one thing firmly: That Xenos had been truthful toward him. That there was no need for him to lose himself in the hurt and guilt of the sacrifices and that he should  _live_ to honor them.

"He is right." Laranthir admitted with a sigh.


	25. A Battle Fought and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight against Mordremoth from the perspective of our two lovebirds - who don't know that they are lovebirds. This time a full-fledged chapter and no drabble because it flew from my fingers like this :D I hope you don't mind. This is not quite as dramatic as Sgileas' and Trahearne's fight aboard the airship, but you came here to escape from me being mean and tearing everyone apart, didn't you?  
> Relax. From here on out it'll be sweet <3

Xenos stood beside Laranthir, never having left the Secondborn's side ever since he'd woken. Their talk from the previous night was still in his mind and especially the most foolish things he'd said - and the thing he'd almost done, but it seemed that Laranthir either was not dwelling on it or had already forgotten.

Personally, Xenos was sure it was because the Secondborn was actually too focussed to notice anything else around them.

"It's quiet." Laranthir murmured, his arms crossed in front of his chest, onyx eyes trailing over the sea of trees below. _The Glory of Tyria_ flew in front of them, the soft hum of machinery and electricity in the air, but other than that it was quiet. Too quiet.

"It's rarely a good sign." Xenos murmured. "It's like Mordremoth's taking a deep breath."

Laranthir mustered him. "Are you nervous?"

"This will be the first time I fight an Elder Dragon." Xenos answered and grinned. "You could say I am excited, as with every new undertaking."

The ship slowly came to a halt when the Pact Marshal gave the order and they hovered for a few seconds before the signal for fire was given. The booming of missiles filled the sky, barraging into the sea of green beneath, uprooting and busting the jungle open into pieces of coppice. Fires broke out beneath and Xenos wanted to firmly fold his arms in front of his chest, a shiver running over his spine.

There it was. _That_ feeling. _That feeling_ of an enemy taking a deep breath and then -

The ship jolted to the side, and behind him Xenos heard a gasp of surprise and a loud, wailing cry when a Pact member fell over the railing down toward the jungle beneath to his certain death. Xenos managed to grasp the railing tightly with his hand, his other arm slinging around Laranthir's middle and pulling him closer when the ship hitched once again, tilting slightly to the side. The deck became a slide, and from below the deck through the thick metal pierced a thick, grey vine that rose high into the air, splinters of metal scattering around them.

Xenos' feet scrambled to gain purchase on the slippery ground, but thankfully the deck evened out, finding its horizontal position once again. Laranthir pushed from his grasp, yelling orders at the top of his lungs over the abrupt booming noises around them, and suddenly, Laranthir gasped and swayed.

_"It's time to come home_. _"_ a voice boomed in his head, in _their heads_ , and Xenos shook his head, blinking in confusion. The voice was loud, overriding everything, even his own thoughts, and for a moment he was not sure what it was, what it meant. Home? Was this home? Was this-?

"Xenos." a voice broke through and Xenos realized he'd stood, frozen on the spot, staring down in between his feet. He looked up and met dark, onyx colored eyes. "It's Mordrmeoth. It's… _calling_ us."

 _"It's time to come home."_ Mordrmeoth called again, but now Xenos knew. He knew it was the Dragon, that it was not his own head, not his own mind, not his own _thoughts_.

"Why is it-" Xenos began and blinked against a blinding headache that seared in his head. Laranthir must have felt a similar pain because he grasped his own head with both hands, fingers digging into his scalp and panted harshly. Xenos grit his teeth and fixed his eyes on Laranthir even though his vision blurred at the edges and he wanted to make it _stop_ , he wanted to take Laranthir's pain away, wanted -

He reached out desperately and held Laranthir's cheeks, covered his ears even though Mordremoth was in their heads and he pulled Laranthir's face up to force the secondborn to look up at him, close enough that Laranthir's warm breath ghosted over his lips and cheeks. "Come on." Xenos whispered harshly, knowing very well that Laranthir could not hear while he covered his ears and Laranthir's hands clawed into Xeno's forearms in response. " _Come on._ " _,_ Xenos supplicated and he was frightened when red flickered in Laranthir's eyes for a split moment, a fire of dread that burned and extinguished in a single second and then Laranthir's eyes were black again, reflecting only the bright, flickering light of the flames that engulfed everything around them.

 _"You are mine."_ Mordremoth said, and Xenos would have spit in Mordrmeoth's face if it was possible.

"No." Xenos said, his eyes boring deeply into Laranthir's in an attempt to somehow reach Mordremoth. "He's _mine_."

"Xenos." Laranthir said breathlessly and Xenos let go of him, slightly startled and gulped. The second his hands lifted he realized two things: Laranthir was safe, and that many other sylvari were not.

Laranthir did not dwell or recuperate and whirled around and grasped his bow, pulling it from his shoulders with a graceful movement and Xenos brushed past him, drawing the greatsword from his back, building up a frontline in front of Laranthir. The ship beneath them gave a rumble and the vine that had pierced from beneath shuddered and the retracted, bringing the ship to jolt once again. From all sides of the deck, Xenos could almost _watch_ as the sylvari fell to Mordrmeoth's call, turning on friends and allies alike.

They swarmed them all, the sheer numbers overwhelming and Xenos whirled around with his greatsword, building up a near frenzy that was fuelled by the wrath he felt for Mordremoth and the sheer frustration that his own kin was to be turned and _used_ in such a manner as if they were nothing but puppets to be discarded.

His greatsword dug deep into bark and fiber alike, tearing the approaching sylvari apart, but there were so many he could not hold them back. A blade cut along his arm, his wrist, his leg, his back, small blemishes upon his bark that left stinging roads of gold upon his skin.

Each cut only increased his adrenaline, increased the rush in his ears that was the harbinger for the _Berserker_ he knew would break out soon. For a few more moments he held on to his sanity, to the strength of his own will before the fury and warmth overwhelmed and flooded him inside, incessantly building up into a river of flowing lava.

It lulled and dulled the pain he felt, blade after blade scraping over his bark and armor effortlessly in an attempt to stop him. He whirled around, spinning his greatsword in a mighty arc around him and slicing apart anything within reach. The Mordrem and Sylvari around him were but a blur of grey and green, swirling by like daydreams or Nightmares. Flashes of red, transformed eyes, gleeful and disconcerting grins as sylvari jumped him and attempted to bring him down, but he raged on and on, a pulse heavy and loud in his ears, so loud that nearly every boom that rattled through the ship and every cry of pain fell on deaf ears. Viciously he leaned forward and rammed his shoulder into an approaching sylvari with such force that it was sent flying backward, the pommel of his sword shoving into the next before he turned wit ha swing of his sword, slicing in a scything motion around him.

He came to a halt when the momentum stopped, adjusted his grip and as about to slash upward and around again blinked in surprise at the sylvari in front of him and gave a low growl when he felt the sharp sting of metal pierce into his abdomen.

"Xenos!" he heard someone cry behind him and knew it was Laranthir's voice. He blinked against the pain that now forced itself in his consciousness, felt his limbs numbing and becoming nerveless as the Berserker drained from his body. The sylvari before him mustered him with a wicked grin as he succumbed to his knees.

"Mordremoth has plans for you all." the sylvari said, eyes gleaming with a dangerous promise.

Xenos didn't have breath to reply. He grit his teeth, his palm flattening against the wound on his abdomen, and the sap flowed freely over his fingers. He'd die. He would die and -

The slylvari in front of him snarled and then he was abruptly pulled back, fingers digging into his tunic from behind. He fell backward, unable to catch himself and his armor scraped with a screeching noise over the metal of the deck. He groaned and blinked up in confusion and saw Laranthir in front of him with sword and shield lifted, forcing the sylvari back with a few quick swishes of the blade. The secondborn pointed his blade at the group of sylvari, slowly edging backward and closer toward where Xenos lay and the sylvari that had wounded him lay dead upon the deck with a large gaping wound torn open across his chest.

"Stand, Xenos." Laranthir ordered, but the secondborn didn't turn around to look at him, too fixated on the enemies in front of him.

Xenos grit his teeth and placed his elbow beneath him to push himself up when he saw that their ship was slowly descending from the sky, steering toward the sea of trees beneath. He rose fully and lifted his greatsword, taking a deep, rasping breath that ached through his flank and stomach.

He glanced to the side. The deck was full of soldiers fighting, the remaining Pact members trying to hold off the sylvari that had succumbed, but their sheer force was overwhelming. The sails of the ships were alight and torn, the ship trailing certainly down toward the ground. He and Laranthir were cut off from any of the other Pact members and there was no way for them to try and push through.

He and Laranthir were drenched in water, the flames painted in glistening patterns over Laranthir's skin, and the fact that they were both panting was only more evidence of the sheer exhaustion and arduous battle they would either have to win - or die trying.

"Serve your Master." one sylvari told Laranthir. "Serve your purpose."

The ship drifted lower, angling down toward the side, descending into certain - "Only on my death." Laranthir said firmly, and Xenos wanted to kiss him. Not only for saying those words but because it would be the last thing he ever did before dying heroically.

Hah, Boerrn would never believe the skaald who told _this_ story.

His eyes caught on something on the side, the trees below becoming clearer now. Large leaves, vines, branches…

WIthout allowing himself to overthink himself he moved forward and put his arm around Laranthir's middle, pulling the secondborn tightly against him. Laranthir made a startled noise, a gasp escaping him, and Xenos was already turning, lifting his foot up onto the railing. "Trust me, love." Xenos grinned when Laranthir twisted to look at him. With a wide motion he threw the greatsword into the empty air before them and then pushed onto his elevated leg, jumped up and leaped from the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand there they go. :D  
> I am mean, I know, but I do it all because I love you guys. <3 See you in the next one!


	26. Trust Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Laranthirs POV with a few insights on what it was like for him on the ship and then the after - this whole thing had me in a real twist because...well, you will see.  
> Have fun :D

Laranthir was panting harshly, sword tight in his grip, tip pointed toward the sylvari in front of him that slowly encircled them and drew closer. There had to be a way out of this, there had to be something he had not considered. The arrows of his quiver were almost spent, but Xenos could no longer hold the frontline by himself, and Laranthir was not willing to sacrifice the warrior. Perhaps it was best to let them get captured, or perhaps it was all in vain anyhow with how the ship was steering into most certain death.

Surely they would not survive the impact. None of them.

A sudden force curled around his middle and lifted him from his feet with ease and he gasped in surprise, panic setting in. He twisted and whirled around and saw Xenos behind him, and for a brief, terrifying second he wondered if the warrior had succumbed after all, but that thought was erased when Xenos grinned at him.

Grinned, the utter _mad-sylvari._

"Trust me, love." Xenos said and Laranthir had little choice in the matter and no breath to protest when Xenos jumped from the ship into empty air. For a moment they floated and then fell. Laranthir could do nothing but hang on to Xenos, his arm curling tightly around the warrior's broad form and it took all of his willpower to withhold a scream - if he was to die he would do so with dignity intact.

Xenos took a deep, sharp breath beside his ear and then a force like a ram jolted through his body by an undeterminable force and there was a loud, deafening splash and water gushed and enveloped him in a cage. His body jerked at the sudden cold and the feeling of being surrounded by the sudden icy pressure, panic setting his skin alight.

The arm around him loosened and in the disarray and stream of bubbles Laranthir could see neither up nor down, swimming blindly toward a flickering light atop his head and surely enough he burst through the surface with a loud gasp of air, coughing out the water he'd accidentally swallowed in his panic.

He moved his arms wildly at first and then more rythmically, his eyes searching around the surface of the water and finding it devoid of any sign of Xenos at all. He took a few more staggerings breaths to steady himself and to calm his flailing survival instincts.

"Xenos?" he called and turned, his feet pedalling beneath him. "Xenos!"

There was a loud crash and a booming explosion that rippled from the sky and splinters of wood and metal fell onto the already uneven surface of the small lake, the water rippling into small waves. Laranthir searched with his eyes over the surface, looking for a sign of the warrior before the dread set in that something must have happened that -

The armor.

Xenos wore heavy armor.

Laranthir took a deep, gulping breath before he dove beneath the surface, swimming deeper and depper through the spheres of filtered light that cast through the surface and in the dim and absence of direct light his pattern began to glow and surely enough, there, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness was a faint red glow.

Despite the feeling similiar to a cramp in his calves and the protesting of his lungs he pressed onward, the silhouette of Xenos' form becoming more vivid beneath the waves in the near darkness. The warrior looked unconscious and Laranthir wondered if perhaps during their fall their bodies had tilted and Xenos had taken the brunt of the impact, but it all mattered little now. Xenos was drifting lower and lower like a stone and when Laranthir finally reached him he noticed that Xenos' arms were lifeless under the grip of his fingers, following the pull of his guiding hand easily.

He hauled them toward him and dragged Xenos up, his lungs protesting more vehemently now in an aching demand that Laranthir could not be bothered to satisfy right now and with a brisk but certain movement that dragged into _eternity_ all because the water slowed his movements Laranthir gripped his dagger from the small sheath at his back, dug the tip beneath the straps of Xenos armor and cut it loose.

The snap of the leather straps was muffled in the waves and Laranthir pulled at Xenos' unconscious form, brushing off the armor with an acute movement of the back of his hand. His sight was becoming fuzzy and blurry, the shimmering surface above him seemed and infinite time and space away and when he thrust upward with his legs he wondered if he'd reach in time, if he'd even make it, if -

When he burst thorugh the surface he gulped in air with a heavy drag of his chest and pulled Xenos body closer to himself, one arm draped over Xenos shoulder and tugged under his other arm. Gasping for breath still Laranthir pedalled toward the shore, his legs giving an aching reminder that it was more strenuous than he'd first thought and when he finally felt ground underneath his boots he dragged Xenos body from the water, droplets dripping from his tunic into the sand.

Aother explosion rippled through the sky and even though it was alight with fire, flame and smoke Laranthir didn't give it even one last glance. He knelt down beside Xenos body, letting his hand rest atop his chest to find any evidence of breathing, but there was none. With his hands Laranthir grasped Xenos' cheeks.

"Come on." Laranthir whispered and his eyes searched for any movement or twitch of Xenos' eyelids. "Breathe."

When there was no movement and no sign that Xenos would respond - or that he even _could_ \- Laranthir took a deep breath and held Xenos nose closed with his one hand, the other encumbering Xenos' chin. He pressed his mouth tightly over Xenos', breathing new air into his mouth and lungs in a last attempt to bring the sylvari back from the brink of drowning. There was no use to pump over his chest in hopes of restarting his heart - sylvari had non heart. His sole hope lay in this, the pressure of air possibly starting a reflex which would in turn bring a chain reaction that could-

Xenos' body convulsed and Laranthir lifted his head just in time to not get headbutted when Xenos turned his head and coughed out water onto the sand. The warrior's hand flew toward his own throat and he took a deep, gulping breath before collapsing onto his back completely, chest heaving with each staccato breath. He only then noticed Laranthir leaning over him and blinked up at him dazedly.

"Laranthir." Xenos whispered with his voice scraped raw and Laranthir allowed himself to relax somewhat, sitting back on his calves with a relieved sigh.

"By the Pale Tree." Laranthir murmured and drove a hand over the top of his head, smothering the sharp torns there. It was strangely calming to have the sharp sting of their tips on the palms of his hand bring him from his hazy and mouldy mind back into reality.

Xenos slowly sat up and glanced up toward the sky. "The fleet…" Xenos murmured and Laranthir nodded.

"It's been torn apart." Laranthir admitted defeatedly.

"Is that-?" Xenos asked and pointed toward the sky where a large ship slowly descended into the depth of the jungle somewhere further away and Laranthir recognized it.

"It is _The Glory of Tyria_." he murmured in dismay and imagined what kind of battle the Pact Marshal and the Commander were fighting right now and if perhaps luck had blessed them as it had him.

For a moment the both of them stared, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in and Laranthir stood, brushing off his tunic even though it was of no use. The sand would fall from him once everything had dried. For now they needed to find shelter, weapons, to perhaps scout the area and make sure to find other survivors.

They could not be the only ones.

"Come on." Laranthir urged. "We can not linger. We have to find shelter."

Xenos blinked up at him and did not make an attempt to get up at all. "You…" Xenos began. "You saved me."

Laranthir met his gaze evenly, wondering why the warrior sounded as if he had expected Laranthir to simply leave him to drown. Perhaps it was an effect form the near death experience, the warrior's mind remaining just slightly on the hazy side of things and he would recuperate soon. "Of course." Laranthir frowned and held out his hand. "Come on. Or are you injured?"

Xenos percussed his body with his palms and then shook his head. "No, don't think so." And then, finally, he grasped Laranthir's hand and stood. When Laranthir attempted to pull his hand free Xenos kept it with a squeeze and the intense gaze of his red eyes left Laranthir's almost speechless.

"Thank you." Xenos said honestly.

"No, thank _you_." Laranthir corrected. "Without you we would still be on that ship."

Xenos gave only a curt nod before he finally let go and searched the horizon with his eyes, the look on his face turning stern and keen. "We should head east." Xenos murmured thoughtfully. "If we're to make it out alive of this, I'd rather not encounter any more of Mordremoths tricks."

"Agreed." Laranthir nodded and together they made their way toward the large thicket of the jungle in search of survivors - and perhaps a little bit a hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so what had me twisted was how the hell does one perform CPR on someone who does not have any inner organs. There is a consensus that sylvari breathe in air, that they eat regular foods and drink beverages, but upon closer inspection, this makes very little sense.  
> To breathe you must be in possession of some sort of organ to either just bloat at the inhale of each breath, even without actually requiring the oxygen. Now I am not entirely sure, but I think we would all agree that sylvari are incapable of diving for an infinite amount of time, so they do require the oxygen they gain from breathing. That also means they must have some sort of inner organ to salvage that oxygen, but it needs not necessarily be a lung.  
> For the CPR you also must be in possession of the heart (hence the compression and pressure the re-animate it), of which we know the sylvari to be abstinent from.  
> So, they can breathe, they cant dive infinitely, but how do you revive them?  
> I hope you see my twist there. It made little sense to make chest compressions in order to start a heart that was not there, and the interthoracic pressure would do little to push out any water in the lungs either - so the only way I saw was to somehow build around the respiratory system and assuming that breathing in air would increase the pressure and start some kind of involuntary reaction - a reflex if you will, since we all do not breathe consciously. (You do now because you are reading this, but you usually don't).  
> So, yeah. Am I making any sense?  
> I swear to god, this has me so intrigued I might write a chapter just discussing the anatomic details of sylvari and what kind of organs are actually there - and that would play perfectly into an idea that I have been building that also evolves around anatomy.  
> Okay, enough of that though. Love you guys, thanks for sticking with me and I hope you have a good day! Cheers!


	27. The Camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xenos and Laranthir stumble across Pact members. *Sigh* You'd think the reunion would be sweet, but nope, it's not. Go see for yourself.

"Warmaster!" Gunnart gasped and slowly lowered his rifle. "I thought you were-"

" _He's_ one of _them_." Metella seethed and did not bother to lower her weapon.

"Hold your fire, soldier." Laranthir ordered with a stern, cold voice. "We are not your enemies."

"Says who?" Metella growled and her tail swished dangerously. "All sylvari turned on us. We can not trust you."

"Warmaster." one of the Pale Reaver greeted. "It is good to see you have made it out alive. I want to gather my team of Pale Reavers and scout the area. We will be back by nightfall."

Xenos watched it all with trepidation crawling up his spine. The fact that the Pact members all seemed wary of them was not bad enough, no, they had to go pointing _weapons_ at them.

"Permission granted." Laranthir nodded. "But be careful. We do not know what to expect."

"Thank you." the Pale Reaver smiled and then gestured for his fellow sylvari to follow. No other Pact member seemed to stir and it made Xenos infuriated.

"What is the situation?" Laranthir asked.

"The entire fleet was torn from the sky, that's what." Metella growled.

"Listen here you-" Xenos growled but was interrupted by Laranthir who lifted his hand in a curt, swift gesture, signalling for him to remain quiet. Xenos bit his tongue and shrunk back, grumblind something to himself instead. "Stupid flea-fur-ball."

"We must muster strength and supplies if we are to hold this position." Laranthir said calmly and evenly, and Xenos admired how Laranthir managed to keep his cool. "We must tend to the injured and-"

"You are sylvari." Metella dead-pannned. "We are not following a single thing you say. Next thing we know, Mordrem swarm and _kill_ us."

Anger flared up unbid and Xenos growled. It all happened so fast that he had barely any time to react. Metella lifted her gun in his direction when the _Berserker_ showed in the red gleam of his pattern, and the loud shot rang through the parched cliffside in a reverberating echo.

Xenos stared for a few second before he realized the bullet had lodged itself into the barricade beside him, and only because Laranthir had deflected the weapons aim in time. " _Enough!"_ , Laranthir said sharply. "You would shoot one of your own?"

"He isn't one of us." Mettella spat, and Xenos wanted to rip her throat apart. "We can not trust you."

"We will comply, but we can not afford to fight amongst ourselves. We must work together."

"No. You stay where we can see you, and the second you do anything funny, you go or you die." Metella said sharply, and it took Laranthir's hand atop his shoulder to divert him from tearing the Charr open.

"Very well. But I must ask for a basic salve and mending aid. Xenos is injured and needs medical attention."

Metella regarded him for a moment and then nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but stay right where you are."

"Thank you." Laranthir said and pulled Xenos along, gently but firmly toward the end of the camp. All eyes rested on them, and Xenos realized they were the only sylvari here. The Pale Reavers had left - most likely because the animosity was becoming too much, and he could not blame them.

"They don't trust us." Xenos whispered harshly when Laranthir pushed him down toward the ground to sit and he only reluctantly obliged. "We should leave."

"They are my people." Laranthir argued softly. "I imagine this is as difficult for them as it is for us."

"They can not hear the damned dragon in their heads. Do they even know what it's like-"

Laranthir gave him a pointed stare and Xenos immediately grew quiet. "Let us not speak of such things." Laranthir said. "Speaking of evil invites it."

"That's awfully superstitious." Xenos grumbled.

"Here." Crusader Gatt said and placed down a small supply bag of medical salves and bandages.

"Thank you." Laranthir nodded and took the bag before turning toward Xenos again.

"This is not how I imagined to get naked with you." Xenos dead-panned and Laranthir actually chuckled at that.

"It is only you who is removing any armor."

"Shame." Xenos grinned and then grimaced when the opened the strap of his armor, pulling the metal from his chest. The leather beneath was almost glued to the armor and Laranthir helped keeping the two separated before Xenos lifted the leather tunic over his head and discarded it at his side, revealing his broad, light-coloured chest that was well toned, for a sylvari, at least.

Laranthir didn't seem to stare, but Xenos knew better. The secondborn's gaze drifted only the once, from his head down over his chest towad his abdomen, face guarded and level, but Xenos knew it was only an act. It was not plain arrogance when he claimed that he _was_ attractive. It was _fact_.

"You can touch." Xenos grinned and Laranthir rolled his eyes, pessing with his fingers close to the wound with more force than necessary, eliciting a hiss from Xenos mouth. "Ow." Xenos made. "Didn't think you'd be this kind of-"

"Just." Laranthir said with an exasperated sigh and looked up at Xenos eyes. "Just let me apply this and not make it any more awkward, yes?"

"I'd rather be awkward than wondering if our _allies_ will shoot us in our face." Xenos shrugged.

"They won't." Laranthir soothed, but Xenos was not so sure. The secondborn cleaned the wound with a piece of cloth and then applied some salve and the bandage, circling it around Xenos' abdomen. "Is that alright?" Laranthir asked.

"Are you asking if it's too tight?" Xenos grinned and Laranthir shook his head with a weak smile.

"You are absolutely insufferable."

"I manage myself fine, thanks."

"You'll have to." Laranthir said and rose. "I think it would be best if you returned to the Silverwastes once you have healed. The rest of the Pact must know what happened here-"

"No." Xenos cut in, glaring up at Laranthir. "I am not leaving you here."

"I am in no danger." Laranthir soothed.

"I am _not_ going." Xenos said defiantly, and Laranthir sighed.

"I had a feeling you would say that." Larantir admitted with a soft, weary smile, and he slowly eased himself to sit down beside Xenos, keeping enough distance between them that their arms did not touch. The scent of sap, honey, bitter tea and a slight tart musk wafted into Xenos' nose.

It was _not_ unpleasant, quite the contrary. Xenos was used to more sweet scents, especially after spending a long time with human females and to find that Laranthir smelled quite _real_ and austere, if a little bitter only made him wonder what the taste of him would be like.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. _"Good job, Xenos."_ , he thought in dismay. _"Way to get yourself into a predicament while everyone is watching."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in case Laranthir and Xenos gave away the "bro-vibe" and to clear that up: They are cautious and uncertain not only about the situation, but about themselves as well. This is also to show the beginning of their beautiful romance because from here on out it's no longer deniable and all I have to do is make Laranthir get that. So...a little longer, my dears.


	28. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels and some more in-depth development AND Xenos finally gets to meet Tivon again. Not that he cares, with his eyes all over Laranthir, if you get my drift.

When Nightfall came the Pale Reavers had not returned, and it was the first rays of sunlight when Laranthir roused the camp. "We must go search for them." he insisted, but he might as well have spoken to a wall.

"They're sylvari." Metella replied curtly as if that was the answer to all the questions of the universe. "They will not be coming back."

"They are our comrades." Laranthir said carefully, appeasing to her sense of camaraderie, but even that was in vain. "If they have been captured they will need our help."

"They are with Mordremoth now." Metella replied curtly, and it was as if she spoke for them all. Those that did not share her opinion remained quiet and timid, too intimidated to step in.

Laranthir felt stricken and _pained_ that Pact members would leave the Pale Reavers to their fate simply because of a _chance_. Had they not proven they could be trusted, at least a little when they resisted Mordremoth's _Call?_ Was that not enough?

It was painful to see all these faces of soldiers looking at him with wear and suspicion as if they expected him to turn any second, and the trepidation and anxiety were slowly crawling into his bark.

This was not the Pact he cherished. Mordremoth had taken that away, it had -

"Hey." Xenos' voice broke him from his reverie, and Laranthir turned his head to look down at Xenos who sat on the ground and had inched closer to grasp his hand. The warrior's voice was soft and feeling, and Laranthir gulped the sudden emotion that was ready to burst from him at how _unfair_ this was. Xenos gave a gentle tug and Laranthir let him, slowly easing himself down next to Xenos. "Are you all right?" Xenos asked in a low whisper. There was little privacy of conversation to be had with the Pact members surrounding them around the clock, but with their voices lowered they had at least a few words to themselves.

Even then, Laranthir did not want to admit how very _struck_ he was that Mordremoth was not only apparently their creator, but that all he had worked his life for was falling apart in front of him. "They don't trust me any longer." Laranthir admitted softly, trying to keep the words from hurting, and the hurt from the words, but neither worked.

"They will." Xenos hushed and leaned in closer. "They'll realize their mistake."

"What makes you so sure?" Laranthir murmured.

"Even if they don't," Xenos said, "you have me."

Laranthir met his gaze evenly, contemplating his words and then, without a word he reached out and placed his hand atop Xenos' that was planted on the ground with fingers splayed. Xenos' eyes widened just a fraction, and Laranthir did not meet his eyes.

"Thank you." he murmured, and Xenos fingers twitched against his own as if he wanted to turn his palm and entwine their fingers but resisted the urge.

"Yeah." Xenos said and turned his head away. "Of course."

Neither of them pulled away.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Xenos sat there, unable to properly breathe. Trying very hard to think how _thinking_ actually worked, or even how _breathing_ worked. Considering it was something that happened quite so naturally, it refused to _happen_ right then and there.

Laranthir's hand atop his own.

That was all it had taken to make him completely speechless.

What kind of Sapling was he that such a simple gesture managed to catch him off-guard? He'd done so many more daring things, touches, and glances that would have otherwise been noted as obscene and direct, but this…

It was almost innocent, and it held more feeling than Xenos ever remember having. Than he ever remembered receiving.

He dreaded the moment Laranthir would pull back, he wanted this to last.

 _"That is the sappiest thing I ever thought to myself."_ , Xenos reprimanded himself and would have very much liked to face-palm himself and groan at how inane he was behaving, all because of _Laranthir_ , but couldn't help the fondness that came along with it.

It was not mere finger-pointing to say that this - Xenos being here with the Pact, abandoning his life as mercenary to be something, no, _someone_ better - it was all Laranthirs doing and all because the Secondborn saw something in him that made him wonder if he could be what Laranthir saw.

Laranthir's eyes were gazing out over the camp and Xenos noticed that the asura - Gatt was his name, right? - was staring at them, at where their hands touched, and Xenos squinted his eyes at the asura, transmitting without words of a threat, but Gatt had no derision nor disgust in his features at all. Just…contemplation and then he was turning his head away, not even commenting, and Xenos liked that much better anyhow.

This was, after all, the closest he'd ever come to Laranthir without the Secondborn shoving him away. Now that Xenos thought back his first attempt had been completely _pathetic_ , but that was what had proven that Laranthir was different.

Worthy to be treated as more than a fleeting fling.

 _"By the Pale Tree, shut up."_ he told himself. _"You are acting as if this was the first time you ever held hands."_

But then Xenos realized that this was not at all the closest they had come. The memory was faint, blurry, hazy at the edges and it urged into his consciousness, slowly bubbling forth.

_Wind rushing by, the leaves atop his head rustling and his arms encircling Laranthir in a tight lock before his back met a surface that may have very well been metal. Air pressed from his lungs, the impact rattled through him and his grip loosened involuntarily, water splashed and gushed around him, surrounding and pulling him in and even as he gasped in air, water filled his mouth and lung in a cold, aggravating way, blocking his ability to breathe._

_His was light-headed, the impact had made him dizzy, and the rush of water around him and the bubbles were the only sound he heard as he blinked up at the glittering bright surface as it drifted away. He knew he had to reach out, to move his limps and swim, but his body felt heavy and aching, numb to the point his fingers were nerveless._

_Cold pressed in from all sides, the weight of his body dragging him down and his eyes fluttered closed. He caught himself thinking "This is not so bad." before slipping in and out of consciousness. It was dark and cold and strangely serene, a sense of fulfillment that after having lived a life so full of egocentric desires and his own wants, he'd die not for or because of merely himself. He was dying for something grander and-_

_The rush of water. It moved loudly, there was movement, but Xenos could not move. Wasn't he…wait, was he still alive?_

_At the edge of his consciousness, he heard a voice. "Come on." the voice said. "Breathe."_

_"Breathe?" Xenos thought. I can't. I can't._

_Warmth cradled his cheek, his chin, and then something warm and soft wrapped over his mouth and_

_And_

_…was that?_

_The push of air pressed into him, his chest giving a jerking reaction and jolting back to life, and suddenly he was coughing, water gushing from his throat and he blinked hazily before dropping onto his back, not even remembering even propping himself onto his elbow._

_When he looked up he saw Laranthir kneeling beside his body, sunlight and fiery horizon accentuating his features, dark, onyx eyes searching for contact with his in an unasked question. Laranthir's pattern glowed only faintly in soft, ebbing pulses as if it only now calmed, and the Secondborn's hands that had remained resting atop his shoulders retracted, leaving a trail over Xenos' skin that made him shiver._

_Thorns, he was beautiful._

_"Laranthir." Xenos said, the word strange on his tongue as if he was testing out its sound, the taste of the name on his lips…_

_"By the Pale Tree." Laranthir murmured and drove a hand over the top of his hand, looking…distraught, slightly disheveled, and Xenos realized that Laranthir had saved his life._

"You," Xenos said long before the words had even had properly formed in his head, much less on his tongue, and when Laranthir glanced up at him the loss of his words was only more apparent. "You, ah…saved me."

Laranthir gave a weak smile. "Yes?" The Secondborn said, but it was a question because Xenos had already said it once before. The question _"What about it?"_ hung in the air and Xenos gulped.

The closest they had come was not this. It was when Laranthir had _breathed life into him_. In both a metaphorical and all too literal sense. Laranthir had given life to the idea that Xenos could be more, that he would _want_ to be more, and encouraging him enough to try it. And then Laranthir had saved him and even though Xenos had not thought about it before…

That was, somewhat, their first…kiss.

He'd been _unconscious_ when Laranthir had done that. Thorns, how he _hated_ not remembering the exact feeling, a tingling riding into his fingertips like from a rod of lightning, and he suddenly could not stand to look into Laranthir's eyes.

"Next time," Xenos breathed lowly, in a promise that was gut-deep, "Next time, I want to be aware."

"Aware?" Laranthir asked, clearly not following his train of thought and Xenos squeezed his hand more tightly, the first shift in touch since they'd silently agreed to it. Laranthir's hand twitched in answer and the Secondborn's eyes widened just a fraction.

"You kissed me." Xenos finally brought out, voice low, and Laranthir blinked at him with an adorably confused expression.

"I revived you." Laranthir corrected.

"With a _kiss_." Xenos insisted with a crooked smile and Laranthir rolled his eyes, but Xenos saw the smile twitching at the corner of Laranhir's mouth.

"It was necessary."

"Oh yes," Xenos teased, "I am sure it was a _terrible_ burden."

Laranthir's eyes became heavy, but not with any kind of lust. They became heavy with another emotion that was mixed with guilt, rue, and trepidation and he hid it quickly. "It was." The Secondborn answered, and the way his voice broke at the end, the was his tone turned into a hushed whisper had Xenos shivering.

_It was a burden to be responsible for another life, to be the reason for another person's death. It was a burden to pull you from the waters and wondering if you would live, it was a burden to see that life seemed to have left you._

That was what made Laranthir so much more magnificent and real than any others Xenos knew. Laranthir was full of emotions that were not simple and not superficial at all, emotions that cut deep and were a raging, wide, wild sea that drowned one under.

Xenos squeezed their hands even tighter and leaned in closer, musk wafting into his nose. "I am alive thanks to you." Xenos said, his voice adjusted into a whisper.

"You are here thanks to me." Laranthir answered, fingers twitching, and before the Secondborn could pull away, Xenos pushed his hand down, pinning it against the ground.

"No," Xenos corrected and his red eyes flickered in between Laranthir's dark ones, seeking contact, and when finally the Secondborn looked up it felt like a thunderclap rattled through Xenos. " _Because_ of you, I chose to be here."

Laranthir searched his eyes for insincerity and of course, found none. Despite Xenos light, flirtatious nature, he could be _serious_ just as well. The air between them prickled and sizzled almost, becoming humid and difficult to breathe. Xenos noticed that in leaning in their shoulders were almost touching, his body angled slightly to the side, and if he bowed down he could -

His eyes flicked to Laranthir's lips and up again and _Thorns,_ this was dangerous. Alluring and tempting and dangerous. He wanted so much more than to simply kiss Laranthir, he wanted to wrap around the Secondborn, to pull him tightly into the shelter of his arms (knowing also very well that Laranthir was in no dire need for protection at all) and wanted to feel and _hear_ Laranthir responding in gasps, moans -

A shiver trailed over his spine and Xenos gulped. It did not help that his experience allowed him to paint a most vivid picture of what Laranthir might look like, what he might _sound_ like, and Xenos could not ignore the bare heat swirling in his core.

 _By the Pale Tree_ , they were in _Camp_.

 _"Control yourself."_ Xenos reprimanded himself and forced himself to lean back, creating distance between them. Laranthir had done nothing except stare at Xenos, lips parted as if to speak, but if the Secondborn had any words to say or questions to ask they must be stuck in his throat.

For a moment Xenos relished the vibrant feeling in the air for a moment longer before he took a deep, calming breath. These moments…they seemed to accumulate. Short moments where they were close enough to exchange glances, close enough to let gravity unspool and increase its pull.

Distance dispersed it, but it did not go away. Xenos knew that. And somehow he wondered if the feeling would go away even if he could _have_ what he desired, or if it would stay, because despite the fact that right now, with Laranthir refusing to take the step (And Xenos honestly could not blame him) it was turning into an aching temptation that Xenos _enjoyed_.

There would come a time, Xenos vowed to himself. He would be here, stay here, because the gravity pulled him in and he had nowhere else he wanted to be.

Here. Right here. And he noticed with a pleasing hum that Laranthir, despite the short heated gaze Xenos had thrown him, had not pulled away.

The silence lasted and was only broken when suddenly a large Norn came rushing into the camp, looking disheveled and _urgent_.

"I am Eir Stegalkin's son," he proclaimed and Xenos and Laranthri stood when all the Pact members stirred by the Norn's sudden appearance. "Tell me where she is."

Too dumb-founded to answer they were forced to watch as a sylvari came in jogging after Braham, halting a few inches behind him. "Braham!" the sylvari reprimanded. "You mustn't run off like that, we're in enemy territory."

The Norn cast the sylvari only one brief glare over his shoulder that left the sylvari stricken for only a moment before he lifted his hand and his fingers curled around the Norn's arm.

Well, as best as the fingers could because, _thorns_ , Norn were blessed with upper arms the size of tree-barks.

"We'll find her." the sylvari said, voice lowering into a more soothing tone, and the Norn relaxed somewhat, enough that the sylvari finally looked down toward where Laranthir stood and approached with a couple of steps. "My name is Tivon." Tivon introduced himself ."These are Braham, Rox, Kas, Jory, Canach, and Taimi. We've come to help with.." the sylvari trailed off and gestured with his other arm around them. "What happened here?"

"Hello, Tivon." Laranthir greeted blandly and Xenos watched the sylvari warily. "The situation is grim. Mordremoth tore the fleet apart. The Pact is in ruins. Trahearne, the Commander and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner…they were alive, but now MIA and the remaining soldiers no longer trust me."

"You're surprised?" the female human Necromancer cut in. "Scarlet, Aerin, and now this. Mordremoth always uses sylvari to do its dirtiest dirty work."

"Don't you dare-" Xenos growled and stepped forward, but Laranthir was quick, almost snake-like in his movement and lifted his hand and splayed his fingers against his chest, pushing him back gently but firmly with a stern gaze.

“Xenos, don't." Laranthir said, voice low and supplicating. “This isn't helping.”

“They don't trust us anyhow." Xenos argued hotly and gestured with his chin toward the Pact members. “Look at them. They would much rather just kill us. I know the look of these kinds of eyes.”

“We must work together." Laranthir insisted evenly, and his dark onyx eyes bored into those of Xenos'. Xenos held his gaze stubbornly for a few more seconds before he noticed the message and supplication in them, and he sighed and leaned back.

“Fine." Xenos grumbled and Laranthir gave an appreciative nod before he turned back to Tivon.

“I am sorry for this mess… It will take time to salvage what is left." Laranthir apologized to Tivon.

“We need to strengthen the defenses around here." Metella interjected. “Our priority has to be salvaging weapon parts from the crash site.”

“What about our comrades in the cavern?" Laranthir asked disbelievingly. “The Pact does not abandon its own.”

Explorer Metella spat on the ground. “Look around, _"sir."_ There is no more Pact. And the prisoners you want to save are probably already dead.”

“Think it through, soldier." Laranthir appeased with a calm voice. “We need greater numbers or any salvage party we send will disappear like the others.”

“This isn't helping." Braham said with a groan. “Just tell us where Destiny's Edge is. Please.”

“What do you think?" Tivon asked Rox, and she shifted uncomfortably, her eyes looking up at Braham sheepishly.

“Let's focus on protecting the soldiers we still have. I say we scare up some turret parts to defend this position." the Charr murmured.

“Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner, too. Rescuing Laranthir's soldiers might help us pick up the trail." Braham argued.

“Laranthir's right this time: we have to rescue the Pact prisoners. It's both logical and our duty." Gatt cut in.

An agent brought in, “We need supplies and salvage to build up this position, or we're all gonna die.”

"All right." Tivon said and took a deep breath. Ironic, that they were all trusting a _sylvari_ to speak for all of them. Why did they listen to this Sapling and not Laranthir? They would have _never_ dared to disobey Trahearne or the Commander either. “We'll rescue the prisoners." Tivon decided and then turned his gaze to Laranthir. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“The Mordrem could have killed them, but instead took them alive. Mordremoth must want them that way. I shudder to think why.”

“Have you mustered any sort of rescue party?”

“I wasn't able to." Laranthir murmured in dismay. ”My troops refuse to risk their lives following my orders, especially since these prisoners are all sylvari. They fear I'm leading them into a trap.”

Xenos cursed, "They'd throw us to rot with the Reavers if they could." and Laranthir gave him a pointed stare.

“We'll look for them." Tivon offered. “Any of you who is willing to follow us can tag along.”

“It's not worth risking more lives to save sylvari prisoners. They're already gone. Sylvari belong to Mordremoth." Metella cut in once again.

“You're a fool." another sylvari behind Tivon said and stepped forward, and Xenos recognized Canach, the secondborn."Only weak-willed sylvari are vulnerable. The rest of us…myself and this sprout here especially…fight back.” Xenos held back his snort only barely.

“He's right. Mordremoth wants us to turn on each other." Tivon reasoned softly.

Explorer Metella only snarled at him. “Who says you're not the enemy? Gunnard, Gatt: come on. We're better off on our own.”

Crusader Gatt, the asura, shook his head defiantly, long ears flapping slightly. “Count me out of your tiny mutiny. My duty is to my fellow soldiers. I'm staying.”

“It's your funeral. This camp won't last another night." Metella said, and it seemed almost a threat. “Good luck - you're going to need it.” With that she and a norn left the camp, heading up toward the slope the way Tivon and his friend had come, disappearing in the distance and from sight.

“By the Pale Tree." Tivon breathed. “Let's form up and head out.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Laranthir quickened his pace and walked abreast with Tivon. The Ranger looked young and he'd overheard the Commander and Trahearne speak of him on occasion. "There was the Call and all the sylvari turned against their comrades. Some of us managed to fight back, but…" Laranthir began.

“I barely even heard it." Tivon murmured as if he was ashamed of it.

“Its call is stronger here. You must be resistant and vigilant.” Laranthir cautioned and glanced over his shoulder. “But I see you are in good hands.”

Tivon was quiet for only a moment, following his gaze before looking forward again. “What happened to Trahearne and Sgileas?" Tivon asked tenuously.

"I'm afraid I don't know." Laranthir answered, his onyx eyes trailing over the path ahead. "They resisted the call and fought the sylvari that did not, but everything else remains a mystery."

“It was chaotic up there." Xenos interjected from Laranthir's side and Tivon startled slightly. “Imagine standing quite peacefully when suddenly everything blows apart and everyone tries to kill you.”

Laranthir gave an exasperated sigh. “I am sure Tivon has the insight to keep his vivid imagination to himself, unlike you.”

“I pride myself in that, so, you know, thank you." Xenos grinned, and even though Larnthir tried to be annoyed, he couldn't.

"Do you have any idea why Mordremoth is taking prisoners?" Tivon asked Laranthir, thankfully ignoring Xenos' comment altogether.

“I do not." Laranthir answered apologetically as they reached a small staircase that lead down into a dark tunnel, and across the side was blood and sap. Tivon and Rox moved almost in unison and knelt down to inspect it. Xenos remained by his side, never even inching away.

“Blood, but no bodies." Tivon murmured.

“Not a good sign." Rox finished and lifted her bow from her shoulder In a smooth movement, the leather of her Jerkin rustling softly. “Let's tread carefully. They've been taken this way.” She nodded down the stairs and Tivon followed the direction of her gesture before he slowly rose, the staff at his side and ready to strike when he slowly descended down the stairs.

Xenos and Laranthir moved in front of the two human females, and Laranthir tried to ignore Jory's wary and suspicious gaze, keeping his own face even and level as best he could. Her expression spoke volumes on its own and Xenos built himself up in front of her as he walked by, glaring down as best he could and she glared just in kind.

"Do not antagonize them." Laranthir warned softly over his shoulder toward Xenos. "They have good reason to be wary."

"I won't allow them to treat us like criminals." Xenos spat out. "If she so much as lifts her hand to take up that greatsword, I'll have her hand."

The charr in front of Laranthir came to a sudden halt and even though Laranthir managed not to barrel into her, Xenos didn't stop himself in time, bumping into Laranthir. Laranthir made a surprised noise and tilted forward, but a hand grabbed the back of his tunic and pulled him back onto his own two stable feet. "Sorry." Xenos murmured behind him and released him as quickly as he'd caught him.

Laranthir raised an eyebrow at Xenos over his shoulder and noticed that in the darkness of the cave, the warrior's pattern pulsed a fiery red over his bright skin. The eyes glowed like a fire all on their own and a strange, welcome warmth spread in Laranthir's belly.

Even though he'd never admit it, there was no denying that Xenos was _attractive_.

Laranthir wanted to say something about Xenos being clumsy, but couldn't get the words out, so instead of staring like a dim-witted leaf he asked, "How's your wound?"

Xenos shrugged his shoulders. "It's fine. I barely even feel it." Then there was that shit-eating grin Xenos always wore when he was about to say something completely and utterly ridiculous, "You could-"

"No." Laranthir interjected. "I am _not_ kissing it better."

The charr in front him moved and Laranthir followed and startled when he felt Xenos hot brush of breath on his neck. "Shame." Xenos almost whispered, and Laranthir couldn't suppress the shiver that went over his spine and brushed his hand over the exposed skin with an irritated noise.

If he had turned around, he would have seen Xenos' eyes staring with even more heated intensity than before.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Once the fight finally commenced Xenos was glad to finally let off some steam. Much of his frustration centered around the animosity he and Laranthir received, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized he cared little for the suspicion that was directed at him.

It was unfair that the soldiers who knew Laranthir and had served under him, soldiers that had followed the secondborns orders and _knew_ the secondborn even better than Xenos could _refused_ to listen to Laranthir simply because he was sylvari. Perhaps for them, it was easier to simply neglect any individual prowess and instead focus on the superficial - a mechanism that enabled them to exert power over the ebbing minority.

And that.

That was unfair.

Because Laranthir had fought hard to gain the trust of his comrades, his soldiers, heck, Laranthir was _Second in Command_ of the Vigil, and he was to take responsibility should anything happen to General Almorra, yet nobody seemed to care. Too full of fear and suspicion to see that Laranthir was fighting back, just like Xenos was, and that any more animosity toward them was not only pushing them further away but leaving them frustrated and anguished.

Laranthir more so than Xenos. So much more that Xenos worried if perhaps it would become too much.

When finally Xenos sheathed his greatsword once again he found that the fight had done little to alleviate any of his thoughts. There was no out-running this, there was no escape from Mordremoths prodding their minds. He could hear it, bellowing orders into the confinements of his skull and Xenos all but scowled and ignored it blatantly - because the attempt itself was weak and ridiculous at best, but it managed to catch the Ranger off-guard.

As soon as the Mordrem had wrapped its hand around Tivon's throat there was no cry, no order, no _need_ for urgency. They all charged in and forward without a single command given because it did not need to be given - it was the most natural thing to do to jump in and rescue their comrades and Xenos was glad he was not alone.

The Secondborn Canach took a position behind the Mordrem and after Braham hit it, Xenos took his chance to swing his greatsword and cut the creature where it hurt, relieving it of its arm. Canach, witch a quick thrust of his blade, impaled the Mordrem and it was the female Necromancer that decapitated it with a large maneuver of her greatsword and then everything seemed to finally quiet down.

Xenos watched as Tivon was crowded by Laranthir and tried to not watch from the corner of his eyes. A few quick words were passed between them and Xenos felt Laranthir's eyes burn into the side of his face and he couldn't help himself. He glanced toward where Laranthir stood and their eyes met and even though Xenos could not hear Laranthir's words, the Secondborn spoke them and only turned his head away when he had finished.

When the heavy gaze finally lifted Xenos dragged in a breath he had not known he was holding. It all seemed a bit hazy and for a brief moment he wondered if perhaps he'd been hit over the head, but that was a most definite no.

"We'd better get back to camp." Canach instructed.

Xenos moved toward Laranthir, noticing that whatever conversation they had had it was done. Somehow he could not stand having to watch Laranthir from a position that was not _beside_ the secondborn.

And a small, tedious voice reminded him that he did not like that Laranthir had reached out to touch Tivon reassuringly, even though Xenos had no right to that kind of possessive jealousy.

"I hope this proves what I have been saying," Laranthir said as they finally set in motion again, and it was a great relief that the Pale Reavers they had rescued assembled around Laranthir instead. "If we work together this does not have to be a total disaster."

"Thank you for coming for us." one of the Pale Reavers said again.

"Of course," was Laranthir's kind reply. "Are any of you injured? Where are the others?"

"They've been taken west," the Pale Reaver replied and lowered his head in dismay. "We would have been next."

"And what of those that were injured? We saw blood marks on the stairs leading here."

"Those non-sylvari that were injured were killed," the Pale Reaver sighed. "For some reason, they took the corpses west with the rest."

"We need to find out what Mordremoth plans to do with those sylvari and the dead," Laranthir said thoughtfully.

"Sylvari can be made submissive," Xenos grit out. "Mordremoth could break them and turn them against us - as many of them did during _The Call_."

Even though Laranthir looked like he wanted to disagree, he did not. "Possibly," Laranthir amended. "All the more reason why we can not wait around."

"You have an idea," Xenos noticed.

Laranthir nodded but did not divulge what his idea was. Perhaps the secondborn was still weighing it in his mind and Xenos did not dare interrupt the thought process. When they reached the camp Laranthir had been quiet most of their journey back and lifted his head toward the sky.

"It is a long time till daylight." he murmured.

"Will they attack during the night?" Tivon asked.

"Possibly," Laranthir answered. "They have shown to be increasingly belligerent then."

Tivon nodded and gazed over toward where the large norn was pacing up and down and it took only a few moments until Tivon moved and Xenos took the chance to step beside Laranthir, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

"What's on your mind?" Xenos asked and noticed that the Pale Reavers had all but formed a group with them, distinguishing themselves from the other members of the Pact.

"Despite the animosity, there has to be something that we can do," Laranthir answered. "I am thinking that we and the Pale Reavers could scout the jungle and search for more Pact survivors and organize the remaining forces. If Tivon and his team intend to search for the Marshal and the Commander then they need all the backup they can get - and despite its appearance, the Pact is far from finished."

There was a fire that had sparkled in Laranthir, the very idea that they were not yet defeated, that the fight was not lost, that victory was a possibility - it all played into Laranthir's motivation and beneath the fiery pulse of conviction lay not only hope but _faith_.

"We sylvari know best about Mordremoth." Xenos agreed. "We can hear its call and watch over one another."

Laranthir nodded with a smile. "Yes - we can keep each other in check. We traverse the jungle, scout the areas and slowly build our way through the jungle. This is no disadvantage. We are not _stuck_ here. As a matter of fact, Mordremoth is _stuck_ with us instead."

"I like the way your brain works." Xenos grinned and Laranthir chuckled at that, but the chuckle faded slowly and Laranthir gazed at him contemplatively.

"Xenos, I know I've suggested it before and that you have refused it, but I want to offer it to you once again. You have absolutely no obligation to be here and don't misunderstand me, I am grateful for all that you have done, but-"

Xenos lifted his hand in a gesture that made Laranthir quiet down. "Have I not made myself clear yet?" Xenos asked, voice low so that the Pale Reavers could not hear. "I'm staying. Right here, with you." Before Laranthir could open his mouth at the words that sounded too much like a confession, Xenos continued, "If you want to show Mordremoth who and what it is messing with I am the right sylvari for the job."

"You would be safe in the Silverwastes." Laranthir argued feebly and Xenos saw the moment that the words had left Laranthirs mouth the Secondborn regretted having said them. For a few seconds, Xenos wondered _why_ when it dawned in his mind.

"You-" Xenos began, suddenly feeling as if someone had punched the air from his thorax, and Laranthir gulped and averted his eyes.

Embarrassed.

 _By the Pale Tree_.

Laranthir wanted to send him away to _protect_ him. Laranthir gave nobody such treatment unless they were special - say a person of high social or military rank who was essential to a victory won on a later occasion - but Xenos was no such person. He was a mercenary in service of the Pact, at least that was his official designation. Laranthir would use his words to motivate and encourage his soldiers to stay here, in the middle of Mordemoth's territory so that they could fight and make a difference, and every single soldier counted. Laranthir knew that he could not play favorites, yet he had somehow decided that Xenos was such.

The awkward silence between them lasted even through Braham's tantrum that was happening somewhere in the background, too faded for Xenos to truly register. All that the warrior could do was stare at Laranthir who was pointedly looking toward the side avoiding his gaze.

The second Xenos opened his mouth Laranthir flinched, but not because of him. There was a cry and suddenly the whole camp seemed alive. Laranthir lifted his gaze and turned toward the entrance and whatever embarrassment had covered his features was replaced with a stead-fast commandeering presence. It was as if Laranthir had simply turned a switch and it was only one more testimony to the great and grand depth that Xenos had not only discovered but which Laranthir chose to let him see. Or at least, could not help but sometimes show it.

The mere thought that Xenos actually might know Laranthir better than anyone only came upon him now and it left him tingling and slightly dizzy.

When Laranthir began to bellow out orders to the Pale Reavers over the fray Xenos planted himself right in front of the secondborn, serving as a shield and sword in one. That was what he was here for, after all. To protect Laranthir.

The fact that it was no longer 'merely' part of his job, that it was part of his life that had become as necessary as breathing was something he kept strictly to himself.

It was that on which he focussed as he lifted his greatsword to parry a Mordrem's attack. That Laranthir was not merely a leader who could easily rally the Pact and bring victory where many such as Metella doubted and fled. Laranthir was much, _much_ more important than that.

The grandness of the secondborn helped to distract Xenos of his own fearful thoughts and feelings that seemed to grow in steady, precarious waves that were out of his control. A little.

He was huffing out a breath and pulling the greatsword from a Mordrem's corpse, eyes wandering over the battlefield that lay out at the front of the camp. Mordrem were swarming in from all around them, the turrets firing constantly and incessantly, the Pale Reavers standing on the high ground with their rifles drawn and shooting at every given opportunity. The longer it seemed to drag on the more fell, but for every Pact solider that was killed, three more Mordrem died, and Xenos had to begrudgingly admit that Tivon's companions were of much superior strength than most of the Pact members.

Without them, this would have been an entirely different story to tell.

He huffed when a large Mordem all but charged into him, large leafy body pressing down against his and squeezing him tightly between the bark and the stone behind him, the Mordrem's spear thankfully deflected and piercing into the hardened surface just inches from Xenos' hip.

With a push of his arms, Xenos managed to make the Mordrem stumble backward and gripped the spear, turned it with a quick twist of his wrist and slammed the tip deep into the Mordrem's belly. Laranthir was adjusting his grip on his bow and slamming the large wooden middle across a Mordrem's skull and turned in a fluid motion, grasping an arrow from his quiver easily and pulling it into the string before firing it point blank in the Mordrem's face.

By the Pale Tree how Xenos admired this sylvari. There was so much power, finesse, _prowess_ hidden beneath poise and calm, and Xenos grinned up at Laranthir who was still standing atop a ledge on high ground. The Secondborn was panting as well and glanced below, but didn't smile back and instead glanced somewhere behind Xenos and the warrior knew _instantly_ that he needed to turn around with a word said.

When he did he found himself face to face with a Raptor as it charged through the camp, no Mordrem in is saddle to steer it, and Xenos quickly dived toward the side to where his greatsword had fallen from his grip. As he vaulted he gripped the greatswords' hilt and rolled over his back onto his knee, having quickly acquired his weapon in the process.

When he turned around to bring the greatsword in an arc around him the raptor was attempting to brake with its feet planted tightly into the ground, dust whirling up as it slithered toward the far end of the wall and Xenos strike graced the side of its body only barely. Were it not for the heat of the battle he might have found it amusing to watch the raptor collide with the wall, stumble backward while shaking its head as if dazed and whining just a fraction of a second before an arrow lodged itself tightly into its head. It stilled and collapsed into a boneless heap of leathery skin and Xenos finally lowered his greatsword, blinking up at the horizon where streaks of sunlight finally caressed the sky.

The fight was over and won, and a long, weary sigh of relief was not only heard but palpable among the remaining members of the Pact. Laranthir jumped down from his high ground and slowly moved toward where Tivon and his friends had assembled around a massive Mordrem and its beast, both very much dead.

"There are more Pale Reavers out there." Laranthir told Tivon and erected himself, and Xenos could _see_ that Laranthir had made up his mind. “I will gather them together and take command. As a sylvari-only unit, we can monitor and protect ourselves from threats both internal and external. If any of us show signs of…faltering, the others will do what needs to be done.”

Tivon glanced over toward Jory and Braham before he murmured tentatively, “My place is-" but he did not get to finish when Laranthir raised his hand in a gentle gesture for quiet.

“I know. You will be heading into the jungle to find Destiny's Edge, the Pact Marshal, and the Commander. We would all be in your debt if you found them. Their leadership would bring some balance to this chaos, and perhaps then the Pact will learn to trust sylvari again.”

Tivon nodded and looked as if he had swallowed a bludgeon. "We will do our best."

“That is all we can do, Valiant." Laranthir smiled sadly and rested his hand atop Tivon's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Safe travels, and may the Pale Tree watch over you.”

"And you, Laranthir." Tivon said blandly before Laranthir turned away, and Xenos gave a curt wave of his hand before he followed Laranthir, steps carrying them back to the camp. He gave the strange Charr who had appeared from a blaze of blinding light a curious look, but who was he to judge a helping hand when it came in the least expected moment? He himself would fall under such category, after all.

"Pale Reavers, to me." Laranthir ordered and the sylvari obeyed without complaint or hesitance, gathering around the Secondborn. "This victory may be only small, but it shows how very much we can still do. No matter Mordremoth's attempts it has failed to corrupt us, and we are all that stands between the Jungle Dragon and Tivon and his team. We must scout the area and assist them in their search for the Pact Marshal and the Commander to our best ability and search for more survivors - and then press onward. We will take the fight to the Dragon, not only because it is what the Elder Dragon will least expect, but also because without interference we will cause a distraction that will enable Tivon and his team to scour the Jungle. As sylvari, it is not only our duty, but it is a privilege to show the world that there is still a fighting spirit within us - and that Mordremoth's reckoning is coming."

Xenos took a deep breath, his eyes wandering over the Pale Reavers that had assembled around them and noticed the positive effect the speech had - on him as well.

"First and foremost, the remaining Pact in the Silverwastes must be informed of our status. Groups of a minimum of three will scout the Jungle areas ahead, and well establish more forward camps from here."

"I've heard from one of the Pact members that there are ruins nearby with easily defensible high-ground." a Pale Reaver cut in. "If I may, I'll lead the way and secure the perimeter. Once it is secured we will light bonfires to signal save passage."

"And I will return to Camp Resolve with a status report." a female Pale Reaver offered. "I have many friends who were forced to stay behind at Fort Amber, and I am sure they would easily rally any forces available. With the bonfires," she nodded toward the Pale Reaver who had suggested it, "We can reinforce any position with our choppers and ships."

"Yes, but we must be careful not to dispatch too many choppers at once, or otherwise Mordremoth will tear them from the sky, not to mention the Wyvern that sail through the skies."

"The ships entangled in the canopy and vines can be exploited." another mentioned. "We could make our stations atop there, not only salvaging that what is left but also gaining a general view over the area."

Laranthir was smiling proudly. "Very well. Set in motion. Xenos and I will coordinate what is left of the forces and then follow into the jungle."

"We'll leave a trail." a female sylvari nodded curtly and knelt on the ground. Her pale birch-colored fingers dug into the dry earth, coursing through the dirt and forming a few sharp, small lines that made up a symbol.

Laranthir nodded after he inspected it. "Good. Move out."

The group dispersed, all heading off into different directions, group forming among them naturally. There were only a few more that remained behind, and Laranthir already had a plan for them as well.

"Speak to the Pact members." Laranthir insisted. "Remember that they experienced _The Call_ as much as we did and that they have lost friends and comrades to sylvari that have succumbed. You are not them but remember sympathy. Listen to their concerns and glean any information you can about locations where ships fell from the sky, where they landed and what they have seen, perhaps even if there are more survivors. Any information we gain is important - and make sure to establish all important points on a map. If we are to traverse the Jungle efficiently, we can not afford to get lost."

"At once, Warmaster." the Pale Reaver replied and beckoned the others to follow.

Laranthir looked dazed as if he had not expected that his plan would work out and after staring out ahead, spaced out and lost in his own thoughts, Xenos decided to bring Laranthir back into reality.

"Everything is set in motion." Xenos began and lifted his hand, gently touching Laranthir's upper arm. Laranthir twitched at the contact as if startled and his eyes gazed down toward where Xenos' fingers curled against his bicep before slowly lifting to meet Xenos' red eyes.

"It is only beginning." Laranthir said and took a deep breath. "There is much to be done, but this is not a fight which we can choose not to have. We must fight and win, or we die."

"So very fatalistic." Xenos gave a theatrical sigh. "Guess I have no choice but to tag along now, do I?"

It was obvious that Laranthir remembered the thing he had said prior to the fight breaking out and the awkward silence that had followed after from just the look of reluctance that crossed through his eyes. "You do have a choice." Laranthir said quietly, but his voice was even. Xenos was not sure why, but there was also supplication in Laranthir's tone.

"Good." Xenos said and gripped Laranthir's arm a tad tighter, his red eyes bleeding intensity. "I chose to be _here_."

A moment turned into seconds that stretched into a thick, laden silence and Laranthir broke it by giving a slow nod, his throat bulging when he gulped.

"All right." Laranthir finally allowed. "Let us get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, one more thin before you go to get you all excited: Next chapter gets juicy.  
> See you in the next one!


	29. The Final Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is exactly that. No more dancing around the bushes. No more denying what we already know is there. Have fun peeps <3  
> Enjoy!

The Pale Reavers and their work bore fruit the second they set into action, and Laranthir found strength and new purpose in not only their efforts but their success as well. Most of the information they gained from the Itzel, and one had the most innovative idea to glide across the gaps that tore the jungle open. The first days information came flooding in faster than Laranthir knew how to organize it, but with Xenos' help and suggestions he filtered out everything and assembled a plan.

It was frightening how much he allowed himself to be dependent on Xenos.

 

 

The progression into the Jungle felt rushed, but however hard Laranthir thought, there was no force in the world that would slow him down. Even when he boldly made decisions and charted areas that had been said to have a high Mordrem presence the area was taken over swiftly and their influence in the Jungle grew over just the course of a few days. A life-changing message reached him on the third day.

_"Warmaster. There have been sightings of Tivon and his companions heading deeper into the jungle to the west. The Commander was with him. He is alive."_

 

 

More survivors streamed in and with each camp they established, with each life they rescued the Pact seemed to slowly recover, to reform. Changed in the face of adversity and the great tragedy that had hit them all, sylvari and non-sylvari alike, but among the Pact Laranthir saw that trust formed and bloomed once again and that the cases of sylvari succumbing to Mordremoth's call shriveled away to near zero. They had pushed as far as Auric Basin and discovered the Exalted there who proved to be allies of great power. There was little doubt now. They were winning.

 

 

Evenings were spent with anxiety building up for the next day, and the night that was to come. The ground was hard and uncomfortable, the air heated and stifling, small tents and fires the only luxury they allowed and could afford themselves. Laranthir could not remember when he'd last slept properly and neither did he care to - his mission was the thing that either kept him awake long enough or rattled him from his deprived and short sleep and every move or sound or shift stirred him from slumber. He would lie awake and ponder about the next conclusive move.

 

 

"Wow." Xenos made as he gaped up toward the large golden walls and pillars that reached into the sky. "Is that gold?"

Laranthir chuckled at that, especially when Xenos lifted his hand and graced the pillars with his palm. "Doubtful. Come on, we are not here to sight-see."

The Exalted had offered them not only protection but a place to stay, and the Pact made its camp all around the city of Tarir, slowly establishing their presence even here. The Exalted were for some reason very fond of Tivon and his mission, but Laranthir did not dwell on it.

 

 

"It's a dragon egg." a Pale Reaver reported. "The Exalted are protecting it while the Commander presses forward."

Laranthir gave a curt nod. He'd tried to imagine what it must be like being in Sgileas' skin, not knowing where Trahearne was, and in what state.

"Apparently they are being led by a Mesmer and Nightmare Courtier, but we only caught a glimpse of them heading toward the Tangled Depths."

To Laranthir's surprise, Xenos looked up from where he was sharpening his blade, hand halted and eyes wide. "Derwen?"

The Pale Reaver nodded and Xenos stared. "That was his name."

 

 

After that moment Xenos seemed changed. Before this, he had never missed a single opportunity to say something entirely inappropriate and even embarrassing, but now the warrior remained awfully quiet, obeying Laranthir's orders without complaint nor comment. Quiet and contemplative, lost in the depth of is own thoughts, and for a while Laranthir let him. He knew that everyone had ghosts and demons - he had his very own to deal with after all, but the warrior's absorption worried him nonetheless. Xenos had only alluded to his past only once and enough of it that Laranthir knew better than to ask, but…

 

 

"Xenos." Laranthir said after he'd spend about a minute staring at the warrior who was hunched over the desk, arms planted on the table in front of him and eyes staring straight at the map, lost in thought. At the sound of his voice, Xenos lifted his head and blinked at Laranthir as if he noticed the second born for the first time.

"Yes, ah. We should…do that." Xenos quickly said, trying to cover up that he'd not been listening and Laranthir raised an eyebrow in question.

"I have not suggested anything."

Needless to say that the silence was awkward.

 

 

"Oh." Xenos made and slowly leaned back. It was clear from the look on his face that he tried to think of anything, but instead, all that remained was for him to sigh. "Well."

Laranthir's eyes softened as he rounded the table toward where Xenos stood. "Would you like to talk about it?"

There was a moment Laranthir feared Xenos would play coy and he'd have to spell it out and drag it out of the warrior, but Xenos was no timid flower. "Derwen…can not be trusted." Xenos finally said. "I told the scout as much, but nothing has changed."

 

 

"If the Commander trusts him-" Laranthir began, but Xenos interjected sharply,

"Then he is a fool." The words hung in the air like a cloud of acid and Laranthir halted in his step. "Derwen manipulates all. If he is here it is only because he has an ulterior motive and believe me when I say it is not benign."

"You know him." Laranthir could not help but notice and Xenos turned his head away with a look on his face as if he'd swallowed something bitter.

"I thought I did."

Laranthir hesitated a moment. "Will you…tell me what happened?"

 

 

"I met him at the Grove." Xenos began. "He was looking for a group to tag along to. My friends and I agreed. And…," Xenos sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know me. You can imagine how things went between us."

It took Laranthir a moment before he realized Xenos meant his flirtatious nature. "Ah." Laranthir made. "Well?"

Xenos snorted. "Too well. Too easy." Laranthir didn't know what that meant, but Xenos continued, "he laid a trap for us. I fell for it, and everyone was either captured or killed. I alone made it out alive."

 

 

Laranthir did not get to speak. "I will spare you the gory details." Xenos shrugged, but Laranthir knew better than to trust the nonchalant and level face that Xenos put on. "But I trusted him and I paid for that mistake. To see someone else make the very same…"

"I'm sorry." Laranthir finally said and took the last step toward Xenos. For a moment he hesitated, but then he reached out despite his best judgment and rested his hand atop Xenos' arm in a gesture of comfort.

Xenos met his eyes and Laranthir could not read the intensity in them.

 

 

For a moment Laranthir thought that Xenos would wave his concern away and tell him that he needed no sympathy, but once again the warrior surprised him. "Yeah." Xenos said, but the word was quiet. "Thank you."

"If there is anything you need…" Laranthir trailed off, cursing himself silently for his choice of words, wondering what kind of thing Xenos would come up with as a reply, and was once again surprised when Xenos lifted his arm and placed his hand atop his own as if he were made from glass.

"Just…this." Xenos murmured and did not meet Laranthir's eyes.

 

 

Laranthir felt trapped but knew somehow that even if he decided to pull his hand away, Xenos would let him without protest. The one moment stretched into a long, drenched silence in which Laranthir tried to read the emotion on Xenos' face and the warrior was looking at the ground, pointedly ignoring him. "We are so close." Laranthir finally said, voice but a low whisper. "Mordemoth cannot stop us now, and neither can Derwen."

"I am not concerned about that." Xenos sighed. "I am concerned about the price Derwen is going to ask of them."

"What do you mean?"

 

 

"Even if he is here because Mordremoth is a threat to all there is no guarantee he won't break someone in the process."

Laranthir should have pondered his words, but they came out before he could stop himself. "As it did you."

Xenos flinched at the words and his expression hardened. "And how would you-"

Laranthir interjected quickly and tightened his hold, keeping Xenos steady in place. "I did not mean it in a bad way, Xenos." Laranthir soothed. "You know that."

Xenos deflated immediately and looked away. "Yeah." he admitted weakly. "But it would be so easy to get angry."

 

 

"You can." Laranthir encouraged with a smile. "You can scream at me and trash the table, and frankly the vase over there has it coming."

Xenos blinked at him stupidly. "Did you just…joke?"

"I am perfectly capable of jest when the situation allows." Laranthir dead-panned with a smile.

Something ardent bled into Xenos' gaze that Laranthir was just a tad too slow to decipher before Xenos moved. It was subtle, ginger, timid, and Laranthir startled when Xenos' hand rose to cup his cheek. "Laranthir." was all Xenos breathed as if the name itself was a sacred, powerful spell.

 

 

As far as the situation was concerned, Laranthir was absolutely sure that some sort of magic had to be involved. Otherwise, he could not explain the sudden change in the air he breathed, why there seemed to be a spark ready to ignite if one of them only spoke the right word. The hand cupping his cheek was warm, calloused and slightly rough and even though he should have flinched away, he found he was too comfortable to.

That he felt…safe. Familiar, almost.

Were it not for the nervous thrum that pulsed through him from the inside into his fingertips.

 

 

A second. Two. Three. A breath ghosted over his cheek and Laranthir felt near ready to burst with anticipation, finding neither strength nor will to pull away. What had happened to his resolve, to the fact that he wanted to be no Moth to Xenos' flame? He'd only get burned and there was no telling what would be left.

Much less that they were in the middle of a war that they needed to win. No distraction. No diversion.

And he realized that Xenos was fighting just as much as he was, straining even, and finally Laranthir summoned his strength.

 

 

"Xenos." he breathed and did not recognize the husk of his voice. Carefully he took Xenos' hand that cupped his cheek and pulled it from his burning skin, leaving a mark there that could have very well been a brand that felt exposed to an icy cold wind.

Xenos seemed to snap from his thoughts, away from the fight that was fought in his mind and nodded tightly, gulping down the lump in his throat. Reluctantly Xenos pulled his hand away and took a step back.

"Yeah." he said, voice rasping and rough. "Sorry."

Laranthir took a deep steadying breath.

 

 

He wanted to desperately deny the effect that Xenos had or the fact that he could feel the pull and the gravity between them. He did not want to admit that at some point in time which he could not pinpoint he'd stopped being vigilant and Xenos had somehow managed to sneak into his chest, eliciting what Laranthir recognized to not merely be curiosity, but something more than that.

Pale Tree help him, he could not let this happen.

" _Why not?_ " a thought asked.

_"We are at war. Any distraction could mean our finite end."_

" _You know that's not true._ "

 

 

How he hated when he disagreed with himself. " _If anything, feelings and passion give life to cause and calling. If you had more to fight for than a simple notion, would the power of your mind not increase in search of victory?"_

Damn it.

_Damn it._

_"It is your own pride. You denied him and you seek to keep your own integrity. For the sake of pride and nothing more."_

Laranthir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The thoughts had been there long ago but he'd suppressed them. Had not allowed them in because he feared their consequence.

 

 

Xenos tried to pull his hand away - most likely to flee the scene to shake the high - but Laranthir gripped Xenos' wrist harder, tugging Xenos toward him. Xenos made a strange, startled noise and Laranthir acted the only way he knew _how_ : Headfirst, eyes glancing only briefly at Xenos' lips before he stretched his neck forward, his hand finding the back of Xenos's head with a rough, awkward tug that pulled Xenos down into a most uncoordinated, messy, _clumsy_ kiss that nearly missed because Laranthir shut his eyes prematurely and tightly - fearing both effect and consequence of the act.

 

 

It lasted for the bare fraction of a second. It was quick, more of a peck, and the touch of Xenos' lips against his own felt _electric_ , surging through him as if he'd touched a live wire and he jerked away just as abruptly as he had initated the kiss, staring up at Xenos who was only slowly coming from his state of trance and confusion, a dazed and _baffled_ expression written clear over his features. The warrior was frozen right where he stood, blinking once, _twice_ at Laranthir before he opened his mouth - but no word would come out.

 

 

Laranthir gulped down everything that came welling up - trepidation, fear, anxiety, self-consciousness - and noticed that Xenos still hadn't moved.

Oh, he had messed this up. If there was a way for him to disappear, a dark hole that could be summoned to swallow him whole, Laranthir would.

They eyes met, gazes lingering, and Laranthir didn't see the moment that Xenos' mind clicked, the moment everything shifted, the mmoment of Xenos realization.

A force slammed into him, he had only time for one gasp before Xenos' fingers dug into his cheeks and chin, pulling him into a heated, _scalding_ kiss.

 

 

It was-

_It was-_

Laranthir couldn' _t think._ His body felt alive, alight like kindling and he groaned against Xenos' lips and received a breathless moan in return that turned his insides into liquid. Xenos titled his head, lips slanting _slick_ over his own in a glide that brought Laranthir's limbs to shiver like leaves in the wind and then, suddenly, Xenos jolted back as if struck by lightning, harsh, panting and hot breath ghosting over Laranthir's mouth and cheeks, fingers loosening their tight grip.

For a moment the only sound were their breaths, _heavy_ and dragged until Xenos spoke breathlessly.

 

"Please," Xenos begged in a low, supplicating voice and Laranthir shivered once again, the heat of Xenos' body permeating the air and seeping through his armour right onto his skin. " _Please_ let this be no dream."

Laranthir's breath hitched at that and he sought contact with Xenos' conflicted eyes. Slowly and tenderly he lifted his hands and splayed them over Xenos' own which still enfolded his chin and cheeks, not once glancing away from his face.

"No," Laranthir hushed, "It's not."

Xenos groaned in relief and with tenderness and care Laranthir hadn't known the warrior possessed, Xenos kissed him again.

   
  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! This is by far not all there is to say about these two, so rest assured there will be more. I might even write a chapter about the Meta Event in Dragon's Stand where they beat up Mordremoth, but for now, well, as the chapter says, it's concluded.  
> And worry not people, I know how you have side-glanced and wondered "Where's the kisses, the heated glances, WHERE IS THE SMUT, SERUNA?!"  
> And...its coming. Believe me, it is. Just not in drabble form, so I had to split this off :D  
> Are you happy with this conclusion? How did you like it so far? Is there anything more about these two you'd like to see?  
> Let me know!  
> Lots of love, and see you in the next one!


	30. Of All the Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! This chapter is just another tease and I apologize, but I hope you enjoy it anyhow. Actually, scratch that. I am _sure_ you'll enjoy yourself and I hope that in the end you'll come back for more  <3  
> Now do go on, shooo!

He was-

He _was-_

Oh, by the Pale Tree and all her glorious branches, he was _kissing_ Laranthir.

Xenos gave a strangled moan, the touch of Laranthir’s lips warm and soft and _oh_ so familiar and yet new he wanted to drown, to never let go, to never have anything separate their lips again. His fingers curled into Laranthir’s skin, mapping its texture and temperature with firm tenderness, his brain refusing to believe that this was _real,_ that this was _happening,_ that he was-

No matter how hard he tried to drink in this moment he feared that the moment would shatter apart, that he would wake from another dream and be alone lying on the way too hard ground staring up at the stars above his head, wishing, hoping, _begging_ for…

Laranthir made a noise like a whimper and the sound of it punched through Xenos forcefully, sending a flush of heat swirling in his middle that felt like a volcano at the verge of erupting.

Xenos pulled Laranthir in, not able to resist the impulse and pressed his lips in tightly, the kiss becoming less chaste with every second that dragged by, lips gliding and slipping in a languid yet rapturing chase. Laranthir’s lips were slick, slightly swollen from Xenos indulgent attention, and Xenos opened his mouth and panted harshly, the shiver that ran through Laranthir a soft tremble palpable underneath his fingers.

Laranthir gulped in air, the sound almost desperate as if he had only now realized that he _needed_ air and Xenos couldn’t help but smile crookedly with his mouth still open, their lips separated by bare inches and tepid breaths.

It was torture to not press in again, not to meet Laranthir’s lips, to force himself to pause simply to indulge in the moment and let it seep into his mind like rain into parched earth.

Laranthir was here with him, being kissed by him _and_ kissing him back.

 _Oh,_ the thought of that, what it _meant_ , all his desires and hopes finally becoming _real_ , it filled him with a flutter and eagerness that nearly overwhelmed his senses. He wanted, oh how he _wanted_ to let his hands travel over Laranthir’s skin, to explore the reactions he could elicit from caressing over the crook of his neck, travelling over his chest, fingers trailing lower and underneath the hem of Laranthir’s tunic to feel burning skin, but that would be too much, that would be too much, too fast, too _soon_ , and it would be a point of no return, because _thorns,_ Xenos was already shaking with the effort it took not to pull Laranthir seamlessly against him, to bite his lip and to delve into his mouth with his tongue and-

 _Mulch,_ the image of that was too hot, _scalding_ , and Xenos lips quivered, his breath caught in his chest with a hitch. Laranthir shifted his head and Xenos let his eyelids flicker open to meet the dark onyx eyes he’d imagined so many times he’d lost count, eyes filled with _need_ and _passion_ , half-lidded and telegraphing without words the need for _more_ , but that was just another of his vivid fantasies because Laranthir looked…

Breathless. A little uncertain and overwhelmed, as if he was similarly still questioning the reality of the situation, but as the second stretched, their eyes flicking between them, searching for _reluctance, hesitation, scruples,_ only to find none.

And yet.

 _Yet_ , Xenos had to ask. He had to because Laranthir needed to say it, Xenos needed to _hear_ it to be sure, he needed _confirmation_ and Laranthir’s _consent_ . Laranthir was worth _too much_ to have any kind of misunderstanding lingering there, _too much_ to be forced into this by the colour of passion overlapping reason.

“Laranthir,” Xenos began, mouth dry and throat tight. His stomach clenched in anticipation, in _fear_ , and he took another serrated breath that sounded _pathetic,_ even in his own ears. When had the last time been since he had been _this_ caught up? The last time he’d _feared_ this much to speak and breathe life and form words to express the flutter that was drowning him under? He couldn’t remember. “Are you...sure about this?”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, it _shouldn’t have been,_ but the deep, bottomless fear that Laranthir might change his mind, that he might draw back and shake his head grew into a cold, grasping winter chill that made Xenos feel nauseous and nerveless when Laranthir gulped and _hesitated_.

 _Oh, by the Pale Tree,_ this was just cruel, and it felt as if he’d been struck by a blade, a sharp, white pain stinging in his chest.

He’d asked. It was fair. He’d given Laranthir that choice, he had _wanted_ for Laranthir to have a choice and now, _now_ -

He needed air. He needed-

“Xenos.” Laranthir’s voice broke through the onslaught that raged in Xenos head and the touch of Laranthir’s hand against his cheek calmed the storm that had erupted immediately, a sudden cold stillness filling him. Was this to be Laranthir’s soft and apologetic rejection? “I...yes.”

Hesitation. _Yes_.

_Oh._

_Oh,_ Xenos couldn’t breathe, waiting, watching Laranthir’s expression, the answer slowly exuding, soaking the air, _permeating_ until Xenos felt light-headed, dizzy, and unquestionably and so _unbearably_ happy that he wanted to explode, that he wanted to let out a bubble of relieved laughter, but Laranthir was _still_ hesitating, _something_ going on in that head of his that Xenos couldn’t decipher.

“This…” Laranthir finally said and his gaze dropped onto Xenos’ chest and he bit his lip before he closed his eyes and summoned his courage with a deep breath. The suspense...it was _killing_ Xenos, _slowly_ and _painfully_ and he wondered what kind of thing Laranthir would say, what it could be that weighed on the secondborn’s mind when finally, Laranthir murmured, “I am...new to this.”

Ah.

Ah?

Wait.

_What?_

Before Xenos could compute (Laranthir being _new_ to this, what did that even mean? New to relationships, men being with men, kissing, new to... _what?_ ) Laranthir continued, “I’ve never been in a relationship before and... I just thought that you should know how _bad_ and _inept_ I am...at _this_.”

Xenos blinked. Once. Twice.

On the positive side, he was completely relaxed now, no single strand of trepidation strung in him to sing it’s pitiful song of fear and _anxiety_ , but instead he was dumbfounded, startled...dazed, even.

“Is...ah,” Laranthir gulped when Xenos simply _stared_. “Can you...stop looking at me like that?”

“Ah,” Xenos made, shaking himself from his reverie and he blinked again. “I’m just…” It was hard to find the words to express how _confused_ and _startled_ he was. _By the Pale Tree,_ he had _teased_ Laranthir about being inexperienced, about being a _virgin,_ but not even _once_ had he thought that it would be _true_ . He’d simply assumed that like everyone else, Laranthir had had his experiences, good and bad, and had decided to be dutiful and disciplined instead of _wasting_ his time in search for an adequate partner. “But you’re…”

Laranthir chuckled at that lightly, the tension of the situation dispersing. “Old? I suppose so.”

“Wonderful.” Xenos said, “And strong, and handsome and... _how_ did you _even_ -” He cut himself off, the thought that Laranthir had not _once_ been wooed by anyone completely and _utterly_ ridiculous.

Laranthir opened his mouth, cheeks flushing a darker, _beautiful_ shade. To compensate Laranthir punched him lightly against the shoulder. “Stop it. You-” Laranthir took a sharp breath, clearly _flustered_ and Xenos could not hide his grin. “You are insufferable.”

“Yeah.” Xenos let his hands drop to Laranthir’s hips and pulled him closer with a tug and the secondborn let out a huff of breath, pulling his head back slightly to avoid head-butting him. Laranthir’s onyx eyes seemed blown, wide and _even_ darker when their gazes met, and Xenos leaned down to breathe against Laranthir’s lips, “Can you suffer a while longer?”

Laranthir chuckled and craned his neck slightly, lips feathering against Xenos. “A while.” Laranthir agreed and Xenos finally closed the distance and groaned once again.

He’d never get enough of this. Never.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the title is supposed to allude to the irony of Xenos assuming things about Laranthir. Of All the Things that should be, none of them are true, and Of All the Things that could be...well, Xenos has the power to make the first impression, if you get my drift. *wink*


	31. Consummate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, I am absolutely terrible and can never think of a proper title for chapters like this (I literally spent five minutes just staring at the screen before thinking **** it). So, a warning for those who somehow managed to miss all the hints:  
> SMUT ahead. Eleven (HOLY SHIT) pages of explicit, glorious, sexy smut.  
> Have fun!

There was absolutely  _ no  _ way that Laranthir was inexperienced. There was no way that Laranthir could be this... _ charming  _ and  _ alluring  _ by  _ accident. _

Tent, table,  _ meeting _ , Xenos repeated in his head, over and over, but the second he looked at Laranthir-

Damn.

_ Damn. _

Laranthir was completely oblivious to the devouring gaze Xenos had as he let his eyes glide over the secondborn’s body. Laranthir was hunched forward, elbows resting upon the table he, Xenos and a few other Agents and Pale Reavers had gathered around, onyx eyes fixed on the map in front of him with a slight frown that drew his eyebrows together. The bow of his body allowed Xenos to catch a glimpse of the neckline dangling downward, revealing just inches of Laranthir’s chest that Xenos wanted to  _ kiss  _ and map with his fingers, with his  _ tongue- _

_ Thorns and brambles,  _ Xenos had deliberately stood  _ away  _ and  _ across  _ from Laranthir so that his thoughts would not wander, so that he would not get  _ distracted _ , but the fact that he nearly burst into flame whenever Laranthir so much as  _ looked  _ at him made it absolutely  _ impossible  _ not to feel the stirrings of heat and arousal.

Especially since now Xenos knew the taste of Laranthir’s lips and he had heard some of Laranthirs noises, had felt some Laranthir’s writhes and shivers and he was  _ itching  _ to see more, feel more,  _ hear more _ . 

Frustrating. That was what this was. Frustrating and unfair and  _ infuriating _ because Laranthir was nonchalant without even a  _ single clue  _ as to what he did to Xenos by being so-

So-

Fuck,  _ perfect _ .

Xenos startled and the clench of his folded arms tightened when Laranthir suddenly looked up, dark eyes meeting his own and for a moment Xenos wondered if perhaps he’d spoken aloud, if perhaps the intensity of his desireous gaze  _ bleed  _ into his facial expression, but it turned out to be just coincidence and once again, Laranthir did not seem to notice Xenos’ desperate and leg-clenching state and  _ smiled  _ warmly before glancing away toward some Agent whose voice was only a bleary and muffled white noise to Xenos ears.

_ Mulch.  _

It was a blessing that Xenos was only required in body and not mind at these meetings. He was here only because Laranthir was and thankfully he never needed to speak, which also lead to his current predicament which repeated itself over and over and  _ over _ . 

The fact that nobody noticed his presence and regarded him gave him the freedom to let his eyes  _ linger _ , to let them map out and imagine the uncharted and undiscovered inches of Laranthir’s body that were hidden beneath clothing Xenos wanted to rip off from Laranthir’s skin.

Better yet to pull the tunic over Laranthir’s head and tangle it around his wrists, trapping and binding the over his head to kiss the crook of his neck, lick across his skin, paint warm lines with his palm across Laranthir’s chest and stomach and have him arch against him-

_ Thorns and brambles,  _ Xenos cursed himself inwardly and was glad that the table reached toward his hip because his arousal stirred to life, completely ignoring that this was  _ a bad time. _

He shifted uncomfortably and bit his lips, glad that nobody even seemed to so much as glance at him to notice his small crisis. It did little to help his mind to focus and reel back from his fantasies when he leaned against the table trying to look casually, the hard press against his pelvis opening an image of Laranthir’s strong, thick thighs straddling his hips and he inclined his head and took a deep breath to steady himself.

_ Please _ , he begged,  _ Let this be over soon. _

Laranthir’s voice blurred through the edge of consciousness and he looked up, eyes fixing on the movement of Laranthir’s lips, barely even hearing a word that was being said. “Then they are valuable allies.” Laranthir was saying. “We have a common enemy. I am sure the Skritt and Ogres would agree.”

He’d kissed those lips. He’d kissed Laranthirs lips, he’d felt the shift of his body, he had heard him  _ moan _ . It was such a stark,  _ bare  _ contrast to how collected and  _ disciplined  _ Laranthir was right now that Xenos felt a rush of  _ want  _ to have that again, especially knowing he was the  _ only one  _ to be able to elicit such sounds.

He wanted to tug Laranthir close, rut against his hips, kiss him open mouthed and hungry until Laranthir dropped all reservations, all sense of  _ discipline  _ and  _ shame  _ and moaned  _ his name.  _

Okay,  _ fuck,  _ he was hard now. Painfully and uncomfortably so. 

_ Someone  _ must have heard his pleas because suddenly all the Agents straightened, saluted and left the tent in a slow, orderly fashion that made Xenos want to scream. He watched them go, one after another, steps disappearing in the distance-

Laranthir was looking after them and Xenos rounded the table, not bothering to be slow, to be timid and  _ hesitant _ . The secondborn turned to look at him, barely opening his mouth to say  _ something  _ (Xenos was pretty sure it had to do with the meeting and the hungry,  _ wanting  _ voice inside him agreed it could wait), but he gripped Laranthirs hips and tugged him close how he had  _ wanted to do _ and pressed his lips tightly against Laranthir’s, the touch, the taste…

It was like a drug. When he could not have it he needed it, and when he had it he needed  _ more _ . 

Laranthir made a surprised noise against his lips, startled and stunned and Xenos didn’t bother to explain, not with  _ words _ , not when his body was speaking a language that could not be misunderstood.

He turned Laranthir slightly, pushing Laranthir’s ass against the table that gave a creaking noise but didn’t budge and thrust his hips forward, the hardened line of his erection pressing tightly into Laranthir’s pelvis. 

Xenos could  _ feel  _ the second Laranthir realized  _ what it was  _ and gripped the back of his thighs and lifted him when Laranthir’s legs trembled and threatened to give out. He lifted him just slightly, seating Laranthir atop the table, lips never once breaking contact because he  _ needed  _ that connection, he needed the feel of Laranthir as close as possible. 

Laranthir gasped when Xenos yanked him closer, legs splayed wide open and Xenos pushing in between, seeking friction for the almost  _ painful  _ arousal still constricted by his clothing and broke the kiss to heave in a breath. 

In that moment Xenos could see how very caught up Laranthir was, how  _ overwhelmed  _ and startled the secondborn was by the development he clearly had not expected - most likely not even in his wildest dreams.

And heck, Xenos was about to show Laranthir  _ what  _ wild dreams looked like. 

“Xen-” Laranthir began, but Xenos kissed the edge of his mouth, along his chin and down his neck and  _ bit  _ into the skin, elicitng a startled hitch of breath from Laranthir in the process.

_ Thorns _ , Laranthir was so  _ responsive _ and  _ sensitive.  _ Xenos wanted to bite and mark every inch of skin, to suck beautiful spots into his bark, to seam them together skin on skin, take all the words out of Laranthir’s mouth by muffling them with a searing, sloppy kiss.

“Xenos!” Laranthir gasped and Xenos startled. “You can’t... _ Oh.” _

Xenos had said all that out loud, had whispered it against the skin, he had -

“I want-” Xenos said, voice husked out,  _ strangled,  _ not knowing what he had wanted to say because he wanted  _ so much  _ all at once. “I want you. I want you, Laranthir, I want-”

“ _ Thorns! _ ” Laranthir cursed and Xenos could not help it. He smirked against Laranthirs neck, chuckling and deliberately letting his breath wash over Laranthir’s skin. “Not here, we can’t-”

Now, there were certain words Xenos abstained from

_ Never  _ and  _ can’t  _ being two of them. 

A bit more roughly he pulled Laranthir so tight against him that the rut of his hip came involuntarily in search for friction and the pleasure shot up his spine like lightning, sparkling under his skin, making him feel coiled and hot and  _ tight  _ and he groaned against Laranthir’s skin, “Let me show you.”

His hands moved, one cupping the back of Laranthir’s head, the other underneath the secondborn and he pulled Laranthir toward him and slightly upward, causing the secondborn to fall backwards against the table with a slight thrum reverberating through the wood, figurines jumping into the air and clattering against the surface. 

Laranthir lay supine atop the table, chest heaving and eyes blown wide, so  _ wide  _ Xenos felt a pang of guilt, just for a second, before he saw that among the  _ uncertainty  _ there was  _ curiosity  _ and clear signs of  _ pleasure  _ sparkling in Laranthir’s eyes. “What are you-” Laranthir breathed out, lips too far away for Xenos to kiss and to muffle the words, so instead he leaned down and bowed forward as best he could, retracting his hands to flow over Laranthir’s chest still covered by the tunic. 

The words died away in a gasp and Xenos eyes burned with the intensity of the sun as he watched Laranthir’s reaction. There was a  _ thunk  _ when Laranthir let his head fall back, his chest heaving against Xenos hands with each indrawn breath, lips parted and wide open and-

_ Thorns _ , how, how, just  _ how  _ could someone look like that? Enticing and alluring and absolutely  _ perfect?  _

Laranthir groaned, unable to form a response to Xenos unconsciously spoken words. He would have protested, most likely, it was what he always did after all, and Xenos could not even describe how  _ happy  _ and  _ exhilarated  _ he felt to have already brought Laranthir to the point where he’d forgotten how to formulate responses. 

Xenos moved his hands with pressure, deliberately mapping out the feel of Laranthir’s chest and stomach. It was hard and firm beneath his fingers, signs of training and strong constitution and his fingers cleverly dug beneath the tunic, palms meeting hot, scalding skin. 

The arch of Laranthir’s back and the hitch of his breath were absolutely driving him mad. He wanted Laranthir so bad, he wanted…

His brain was so fuzzy, heat and arousal making it hard to formulate exact words, but there was a voice protesting in the back of his mind that no matter how far he  _ wanted  _ to go, there were  _ limits _ . 

How far could he go? This...Xenos was aroused, yes, but despite how pushy he felt, how demanding the  _ need  _ was, Laranthir’s consent was…

He  _ needed  _ it. If Laranthir came from his high (induced by  _ him _ , a smug voice answered in his brain) and possibly  _ regretted  _ having taken this step, then-

Xenos dragged in some much needed air and gripped Laranthir’s flanks with both hands, gripping tightly into the warm bark and felt each of Laranthir’s breaths in the stretch of skin, in the way his chest moved.

“Laranthir,” Xenos brought out, mouth dry and it was  _ torture  _ to stare and wait for Laranthir’s elevated breathing to slow, for Laranthir to look up at him from his supine position and, ah,  _ fuck,  _ the image was too much and not enough all at once. His breath hitched and he panted heavily, regaining his control ever so slowly and noticed that his hands had dug painfully hard into Laranthir’s sides, but the secondborn didn’t complain at all.

If anything there was a veil of lust over his eyes, desire painted over his expression.

_ Thorns. _

“I want,” Xenos said and licked his lips, “I want to...make you feel good. Just… If it’s too much, you have to…”

Laranthir panted nearly as harshly. “What do you…” Laranthir whispered, voice dark and low from arousal and Xenos shivered. 

At some point he might have been able to phrase it in a less direct manner, but now? Now he was glad to even  _ find  _ words. “Touch you, kiss you,  _ suck you _ .” The image of pulling down Laranthir’s trousers and to see the erection Xenos could feel against his pelvis, fully formed and  _ hard _ , it was enough to have him moan and incline his head, taking lungfuls of air because he felt dizzy.

The  __thuck ___ _ of Laranthir’s head against the table was almost comical,  _ almost _ , but both of them were too worked up to laugh, too lost and  _ too  _ aroused to do anything but drag in air and hold on to their sanity.  __

____

“ _ Thorns,  _ Xenos.” Laranthir panted and Xenos was not sure what to say except,

“Please.” 

Laranthir shivered beneath him at the word and, and,  _ moaned.  _

_ Oh, fuck. _

“If…” Laranthir’s breath hitched and Xenos saw that Laranthir’s fingers clenched against the wood, seeking some sort of  _ control  _ and Xenos wanted to take his hands, squeeze them, bring the fingertips to his lips and kiss them gingerly, gently- “Only if, if...if you want.” Laranthir brought out and Xenos gave a breathless laugh. 

“I’ll never not want to.” Xenos promised and Laranthir lifted his hand to cover his mouth, teeth biting into the thenar of his hand to stifle a noise Xenos wanted to  _ hear _ . “Dont.” Xenos supplicated, “Don’t hide that… I want to  _ hear  _ it.”

“You are killing me.” Laranthir whispered, voice hallowed out with lust and Xenos finally moved his hands, pulling the tunic up to reveal Laranthir’s stomach and belly button. He planted gentle, soft kisses there, up and down, toward the side, so tenderly and  _ gingerly  _ Laranthir arched up against him, biting back the moans. 

Xenos fingers danced expertly over Laranthir’s side, not light enough to tickle and not strong enough to grip, a torturous caress that had Laranthir withering beneath him, shifting against the table with a creak. When Xenos reached the band of Laranthir’s trousers and the belt he lifted his mouth from Laranthir’s skin, trying to lock eyes with the secondborn, but Laranthir had his hand over his eyes, mouth hanging open, cheeks and ears flushes a darker shade.

The question Xenos had wanted to ask died in his throat and he moved his fingers toward the belt and opened it deftly, the click resounding deafeningly loud in the tent. Laranthir twitched beneath him, legs squeezing around Xenos hips in an attempt to hide, most likely embarrassed and  _ self-conscious _ , and Xenos moved his hands over Laranthir’s hips, hushing in a low, reassuring tone, “It’s alright,” Xenos could watch the furious pulse of Laranthir’s pattern come to life at that, “You are...you are  _ perfect _ .”

“By the…” Laranthir whispered in a whimper, voice breaking before he could finish. 

Xenos fingers gripped Laranthir’s trousers, “I’ve got you,” he whispered and tugged gently, “I’ve got you.”

Laranthir’s body tensed, legs tightening, stomach constricting, shoulders drawing in and the secondborn held his breath as Xenos pulled the trousers down to reveal the jut of Laranthir’s hip, down, down,  _ down,  _ and then-

Xenos mouth turned dry when the heavy bulge of Laranthir’s arousal strained against the trousers and with another eager and almost impatient tug it bobbed free, tip glistening in the dim light. 

_ Oh,  _ Xenos caught himself mouthing and his fingers flew over Laranthir’s pelvis, teasing and light before he gripped the shaft, felt it  _ hot _ ,  _ scalding  _ and  _ hard  _ against his palm.

_ Thorns,  _ he wanted it in his mouth  _ so bad.  _

Laranthir twitched and moaned, biting off the sound in the very middle and Xenos lifted his heated gaze. He wanted, he wanted-

“Laranthir.” Xenos brought and Laranthir made a noise that he had heard, but he did not lift his hand from atop his eyes. “Laranthir,  _ look  _ at me.”

“It’s-” Laranthir brought out and Xenos had to  _ force  _ his hand to be still, to not give Laranthir’s twitching member an experimental tug to see what it would do to his  _ voice.  _ “It’s embarrassing.”

Xenos chuckled at that, light and without any derision. “Laranthir,” Xenos teased, voice low and  _ raw,  _ “I’m about to suck your cock. I’m sure you can  _ look  _ at me.”

Laranthir groaned at the words, arousal in Xenos hand twitching and he couldn’t help but  _ smirk _ . “ _ Oh. _ ” Laranthir made, “ _ Thorns,  _ how can you-”

Xenos couldn’t help it, patience wearing somewhat thin, especially when he wanted, no,  _ needed  _ it so bad, “ _ Look at me. _ ” Xenos ordered in a low,  _ coarse  _ voice that allowed no more argument and Laranthir whimpered and lifted his shaking hand and lifted his head, glazed, hazy,  _ half-lidded  _ and dark eyes  _ finally  _ meeting his own.

It felt as if a supernova had exploded in Xenos head, sparks of pure fire licking over his skin and bringing a heat he’d never felt in such consuming intensity. He held Laranthir’s gaze for a moment longer, eyes ordering  _ “Don’t look away.”  _ Before he opened his mouth, leaned down and closed his eyes, lips finding the tip of Laranthirs cock easily. 

“Oh.” Laranthir said breathlessly and Xenos moaned around the head of Laranthir’s cock, lapping up the precum that had gathered there. He dipped lower, lips forming a tight ring around Laranthir’s member, sinking down, down,  _ down  _ all the way to the base and Laranthir gave a strangled cry, body arching up, unconsciously thrusting into Xenos’ mouth.

Not that he minded. Quite the contrary. But he  _ knew  _ that once Laranthir was relaxed enough to follow the clamour of his body there was certain pleasures gained in  _ denying  _ the thrust of Laranthir’s hips, which was why Xenos gripped Laranthir’s hips and held them down, down,  _ down _ tightly against the table, deep-throating Laranthir smoothly.

Laranthir cried out, hands flying uselessly and slamming into the table, the clatter of figurines all that more satisfying, a sign that Laranthir was losing it due to Xenos’ ministrations. When Xenos pushed his tongue against the underside of Laranthirs cock, squeezing it tightly in between lips and his tongue, Laranthir withered and his pelvis jerked in Xenos hold. 

Xenos seriously could not have been any happier but to  _ deny  _ the thrust of Laranthir’s hips, sucking him in  _ harder  _ and then lifting his head and sinking back down in a slow, torturous glide that had Laranthir see stars. 

It was… Xenos never wanted to stop. The taste of Laranthir’s cock was heady, heavy, but so very  _ real  _ and  _ wonderful  _ he teased him, long and tormenting, eagerly eliciting all kinds of loud gasps and moans that were music in his ears. 

“Xenos-” Laranthir gasped and Xenos sucked harder, tongue pressing in tightly, “Xenos!”

He hummed around his cock and felt the tightening of Laranthir’s body, the clench of Laranthir’s legs around his hips, the constriction of his abs, and Laranthir took in a rattling, gasping breath,

“I’m, Xenos,  _ I’m-” _

_ Oh yes,  _ Xenos thought victoriously and gripped the base of Laranthir’s cock with his free hand, moving it in tandem with the thrust of his head and Laranthir gave a loud, startled cry and came. 

It pulsed and rippled through the shaft in Xenos hand, the whole body beneath him trembling and constricting and then he tasted the spent in his mouth, spurting against the back of his throat. Carefully and tenderly he coaxed Laranthir through his orgasm until Laranthir fell back, body pliant and nerveless, breath coming in heavy, collecting heaves.

Xenos drew back and Laranthir shivered, his member growing soft against his stomach and Xenos grinned, gulped and wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. Granted, his arousal was harder than ever, straining and very  _ painful  _ against the constraints of his clothing, but damn him if the sight of Laranthir quite so satisfied and complacent wasn’t worth all the discomfort in his pants. 

Of course he wished something would happen to undo the pressure there or ease it a  _ bit  _ at least, but that… it could and would have to wait. 

“You OK?” Xenos asked smugly and Laranthir blinked against the ceiling before he looked up at him. 

“I...yeah. Of course, that was…”

“Mind-blowing?” Xenos offered self-satisfied and pulled the trousers back over Laranthir’s hips. Laranthir groaned and much to Xenos surprised answered,

“Yeah.”

Xenos mouth was dry and he gripped Laranthir's tunic that was still crumbled up over his chest and pulled the secondborn into a sitting position. “Come here.” Xenos ordered hotly and Laranthir moaned compliantly, even though he lacked the strength to summon the necessary tension to keep himself up just yet. Xenos held him in place, one arm draped over his back and pulled him into a languid kiss that was a medium for a great many things he wanted to convey.

The most prominent being,  _ I love you and you are perfect, just like this, in my arms.  _

Laranthir lifted his hands, squeezing his shoulders in answer and kissed him back chastely. When he arched against him, lips moving with more practice and less restriction, Xenos heard it loud and clear.

_ Me too. Me too.  _

When they broke apart Xenos was breathless and Laranthir like pudding in his arms, but the secondborn slowly came down from his high and managed to regain his senses enough to hesitantly ask, “So...what about….”

It would be a lie if he said  _ It’s fine _ because heck, it wasn’t. He shifted, the weight of his arousal straining against the line of his pants and he winced. “Well.” Xenos grinned sheepishly, “You know me. I could ask you directly to help me out, but I can-”

“Yeah,” Laranthir interjected, and Xenos forgot how to breathe. When his red eyes searched in Laranthir’s eyes, blinking and stunned, Laranthir continued, “I would like to...uh... _ try. _ ”

_ Oh, thorns.  _

“Fuck,  _ yes. _ ” Xenos breathed out before he could think better of it and Laranthir chuckled. 

“How do I, I mean,  _ we _ ....”

If Laranthir did not stop being this  _ adorable  _ Xenos might bind him to the table and-

_ “Yeah, brain, not helping, thanks.”  _ Xenos thought in dismay when his arousal gave an interested twitch. “Just...just do what you want.”

“Can you,” Laranthir’s breath hitched and he glanced over Xenos chest and gulped, “Take...it off?”

Xenos took Laranthir’s hands and noticed the slight tremble in them, guiding toward the hem of his shirt. Thank the Pale Tree he’d decided not to wear any armour to the meeting today, or this would have been a more strenuous activity. 

“Here,” Xenos grinned, “Let me help you  _ practice. _ ”

Laranthir managed to roll his eyes and Xenos laughed when the secondborn tugged the shirt up and over his head and then...it was quiet. Laranthir held the shirt in one hand and it dangled softly for a few seconds, but Laranthir was looking at Xenos’ chest, eyes trailing over the lines in his bark, the hard, broad form, the pattern pulsing underneath the skin. 

“Like what you see?” Xenos teased and Laranthir looked up to meet his eyes. There was heat and something carnal mixed into the gaze, and every other tease Xenos had prepared died in the back of his throat. 

“I’ve...I’ve told you.” Laranthir said quietly. “You are very attractive.”

Xenos groaned and cupped the back of Laranthir’s neck and kissed him because that was the sole adequate response he could think of and his shirt went fluttering to the ground. Two hands rested upon his bare shoulders, trailing over his burning skin and Xenos gave an encouraging hum and did what he had wanted to do for a while now, embracing the opportunity. 

He opened his mouth and bit gently into Laranthir’s lower lip, tugging it towards him teasingly before releasing it and his tongue eased over the bite. Laranthir’s mouth hung open, hot breath fanning over his cheeks and the hands moved over his chest, mapping bark and skin. Xenos shivered at the feather-light touch. Were he not so aroused, craving every bit of touch that Laranthir was willing to give, it would have tickled. 

Fingertips brushed lower over his stomach, over his abdomen toward his trousers and he thrust forward with his hip, groaning against Laranthir’s lips. When the fingers hooked into the band of his trousers and he heard the click of his belt Xenos pulled away, caring little for the  _ practice  _ he wanted Laranthir to have. He worked his belt open roughly and kissed Laranthir again more heatedly, startling a moan from the secondborn. 

Laranthir’s fingers brushed over his pelvis, lower, tugging at his trousers and he felt it loosening around his hips, but not enough to drop toward the ground and he gave a frustrated little whine that was muffled into Laranthir’s mouth. 

The secondborn pulled back breathlessly, eyes glazed and lips kiss-swollen and  _ red _ . “What do I-” Laranthir asked unsure, voice low.

“Just...touch me.”

Laranthir glanced down and gulped. “I don’t know-”

“Look,” Xenos pushed in closer, face inching toward the secondborn enough that Laranthir blinked up at him, “any touch will do. Any at all.” Laranthir opened his mouth to protest, but Xenso interjected, definite and final, “ _ Any _ .”

Laranthir swallowed hard and nodded, “Alright, yeah, okay.” He took a deep breath and the fingers moved over his burning skin, trailed into the band of his trousers and tugged more strongly. Xenos closed his eyes and his breath hitched when he felt the cool air against his hard and  _ straining  _ erection. 

Laranthir sucked in a breath. “Can I-”

“ _ Yes _ .” Xenos answered without much thought, “Anything you want. Anything-” The breath was stolen from him when Laranthir’s fingers feathered over his erection and then carefully wrapped around him.

Xenos’ legs quivered and he managed to plant his hands with a rattle on the table beside Laranthir’s thighs while dragging in a sharp breath.  _ Thorns,  _ he couldn’t remember this having felt so  _ good _ . Was it the fact it had been so long since he’d done this, or the suspense that had lead to this moment, the constant teasing of his mind-

Laranthir gave an experimental tug and Xenos saw white flash before his eyes, head falling forward onto Laranthir’s shoulder, gasping for breath.

“Xenos,” Laranthir said somewhere and Xenos strained to hear at all, the rush of heat thrumming through him incessantly, “Are you OK?”

_ Fuck. _

Xenos had rarely begged before he’d known Laranthir, but with Laranthir, he had found that it was worth every ounce of pride that was offended. “Please,” Xenos supplicated, “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh.” Laranthir made as if he was surprised and his fingers curled tighter,  _ stronger  _ and Xenos groaned, all but leaning into Laranthir because his legs wouldn’t hold him and he noticed only blearily how Laranthir’s other arm grasped under his arm, hand splayed between his shoulder blades, keeping him upright and in place.

He was quivering, shaking, and  _ Oh,  _ he couldn’t remember how to speak, or how to catch his breath. 

Laranthir was touching him, fingers curled around his cock, moving up and down rhythmically, fingers tightening around the head and then gaining speed and Xenos couldn’t even be bothered to keep quiet. He moaned blatantly against Laranthir’s shoulder, heat swirling and unfolding in his gut, moving into his limbs like sparks of lightning that made him twitch and he noticed only dimly how his pelvis moved, thrusting into Laranthir’s hand, or how Laranthir panted into his ear. 

He was getting so close, edge building and swelling in his core, slowly spilling toward the limit of his control when Laranthir whispered, “I’ve got you.” and Xenos came embarrassingly fast with a startled cry, the high taking him, lifting him, his head blissfully empty. 

When he remembered how to breathe he noticed that Laranthir all but held him up and he took a deep breath, forcing his legs to take his weight and he staggered for a moment, a strange, fond warmth spooling inside him when Laranthir lifted his hands precautiously. 

Xenos blinked at Laranthir before he saw the spots of white on his tunic. “Oh.” He made and Laranthir followed his gaze. “Sorry.”

“Ah.” Laranthir made and gulped, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he tried to hide with an inclination of his head. “Well, you could...grab a spare for me?”

Xenos grinned mischievously, the high still wrecking his brain. “Or,” he teased, “You could show the camp my mark.” Laranthir sputtered and couldn’t get a response out, and finally Xenos laughed. “I’ll go, I’ll go.”

“You are absolutely unbearable.” Laranthir rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

“But,” Xenos leaned in, hands folding at the small of Laranthir’s back, eyes bleeding with mirth and  _ want  _ into Laranthir’s, “You like me regardless, right?”

Laranthir smiled softly and lifted his hand pull Xenos down to meet his lips, “Not regardless,” Laranthir hushed against his lips, “ _ because  _ of it.” before sealing the statement with a kiss. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there you have it peeps! If you want to thank anyone, thank Lamshire. She made me do this. (Wow, that sounds awfully pushy, but I assure you there was no forcing anyone to do anything involved. Okay, so before you get ideas, let's go on, yeah?)  
> So I am not bottling this story up just yet because I might write some more stuff here, but for now, it's done. I hope you've enjoyed this ride with me, and thanks to all of you who have read this and supported me with your kind, encouraging comments! You are the best, and this is all for you.  
> Much love  
> S~


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